Reckoning
by Lividity Jones
Summary: Behind every revolution, there is a person. Behind every person, there is a story. Before she was an Admiral, Daro'Xen was a pilgrim. This is her story, the chronicles of a pilgrimage that began with the promise of hope, and ended in tragedy.
1. Outcast

I do not own Mass Effect or any of it's characters. Just exploring the possibilities.

_"In my hand, I carry the weapon that will rebuild our future. I carry the hope of generations. I carry the key to our legacy. The quarian race will be reborn."_

They cried out her name. Men, women, and children.

"The geth have driven us to scavenge for our survival, forcing us to live in squalor, in this slum of a fleet. Long ago, the galaxy turned its back on us as our home burned. Our ancestors were slaughtered at the hands of the tools they had created. The Council spat on us, beat us down. For three hundred years we have lived in exile. But today, I come to you with the power to take back what is ours: our rightful place in the galaxy. With this, I will bring the geth to their knees, and they will once more bow down to their rightful masters. The galaxy will tremble as they see how the meek have inherited their former glory. There will be retribution for those allowed to suffer and die at the hands of this galaxy. Our ancestors. Our children. There will be no mercy, no negotiation. We will give no quarter. There will be no retreat. Never again will we be forced to run, forced to hide. There will only be justice for those whose backs were broken and their suits ripped from their flesh. There will be a bloody reckoning, and the tools that were once our butchers will return to their rightful place as our vengeance!"

A transcendent chorus of jubilation greeted her words. They loved her. But fear was present as well. She didn't care, they served her. They were her toys.

She had always had the best toys.

She didn't need to be afraid with them around her. She didn't need to be that scared girl in the dark all those years ago. She would return to Council space with an armada, and the skies would burn with the ships of anyone foolish enough to stand in the way of her conquest. She would once more see the lights of Omega, and it's inhabitants would fear her, as she had once feared them. Never again would she run. Never again would she hide. Never again would she kneel. She would storm into Terminus with a firestorm of hot death and relentless vengeance.

There would be a reckoning. For her people. For her ancestors. For her. 

-

Daro'Xen nar Khalos had never experienced the desert. The sand beating against her visor was a new sensation, certainly an unwanted one; one of many she had learned to endure on her Pilgrimage. Caleston was, without doubt, the most unpleasant world she had visited. Entire plains of molten sulfur, sandstorms that blocked out a distant sun, towering foundries populated by dirt-crusted miners, one would be hard pressed to find a less hospitable "garden world" outside of the Krogan DMZ. It almost made her miss the fleet. If it wasn't for the unusual abundance of raw materials, she would not have bothered. The capital of Syneu was home to the very foundries that made this world the largest source of drive core material in the Traverse. Just a small shipment to bring home to the Flotilla would be enough for any captain to offer her a place in their crew. Walking through the streets of the capital, volcanic air carrying more heat than even her suit could compensate for, she could see the looks of disdain she received from the miners through the clouds of dust, all of them covered in a layer of dirt thick enough to choke a drell. Humans. She had heard of them. Newcomers to the galaxy, welcomed to the Citadel after their war with the turians. Apparently, it didn't take much for an entire race to choose to hate her own. It was a sentiment she was growing increasingly accustomed to.

Soot-stained spires stretched into the sky above her as she walked, the concrete pavement worn smooth by the constant breeze of sand. A furnace-hot gale blew through the street as she walked, her mother's shawl wrapped around her billowing in the wind. A cruel reminder that she would never feel that breeze on her skin. Not that she was overly fond of the idea of being drowned in sand, however, the fact that it was denied to her at all felt infuriating. Daro pulled her black veil around her helmet, keeping the strong wind from blowing it away. Turning on the magnetic clasps on the back of her helmet, the hood locked back into place, fixed into it's proper position. She wore perhaps more cloth than was necessary, keeping more of her suit covered than most women her age would. Despite having their looks sealed away behind curtains of fabric and layers of armor, many quarian women often decorated their suits to best bring out their femininity. Daro dressed to keep the dirt off and best protect her petite form. A practical approach inherited from her parents. Her style of dress had never been mainstream, but she had never felt a need for it to be.

The youngest of the Xen family had never much cared for the opinions of others. She had grown apart from her peers through her childhood, shunned by those who never took the time to know her. Even if there was admittedly something morbid about dissecting and re-engineering a childhood toy, could she be blamed for her curiosity, her desire to be like her parents?. What could be more natural than a child who is curious about the world around her, who wants to be like the people who loved her? Her natural affinity for technology only made that more reasonable, as well as her parents proud. Daro had always received top marks, a prodigy in biology and cryptology.

Daro's mind turned to thoughts of home. The opinions of the people who knew her were the only ones that mattered, not that there were many who could claim such. A smile spread across her lips as she thought of Shen'Reth. The young man behind a crimson visor had always been quick to defend her when they were children. She could never figure out why, but he was always kind to her, treating her like an equal and not some duct-dweller who spent all her time taking things apart with her play scalpel. He was a good friend, her parents welcoming him into their home like one of their own. Part of her was sad to see him left behind when she left the Khalos. He was the only person she really had left to talk to, after what had happened to…

Daro's hands absent-mindedly brushed the black cloth she wore over her envirosuit, sending small clouds of dust and sand off of her shoulders. The shawl and the ornamental armor that decorated her slight frame was all she had left of her parents, an accident in the labs of the Khalos tearing open the hull and ejecting them into space. Such was the life of a quarian; living in constant fear that your home might abandon you to the great empty void. It was weeks before they had retrieved the bodies. A lonely funeral was held only a few days before she left home. It was a short ceremony where the daughter of two of the fleet's greatest scientists barely felt welcome. Daro'Xen, the outcast in a family as big as a city.

Pulling her cloak tighter around her small frame, the young quarian continued her solemn march, her head held down. She missed them so much. In a world where comforts were nearly forbidden, they had always been there to offer her a hand or words of encouragement. Daro had never had many friends growing up. She never really cared to make any. She had everything she needed in her cubicle. Two parents that loved her. What more could someone want?

Letting herself get pulled into the undertow of memory, Daro could perfectly recall the first time she had seen her father's face. One of the other children had called her ugly out of frustration from being locked inside his new fabric prison. Children new to the suit often had a hard time adjusting, and Daro had simply been the easiest target for this particular child's aggravation. She had also only gotten her suit recently, and as a result of being the oddball of her ship, was left feeling very insecure. The young girl had spent the better part of that day quietly sobbing, alone, afraid that the helmet that incased her head was a punishment from her parents for being hideous. The thought that she had offended her parents had left her distraught. Daro's father had returned from his experiments early that day to find his only child huddled into a ball on the bed, sniffling into the sheets.

Daro's eyes closed as she remembered every detail of the memory, letting it engulf her. She often let herself become enraptured in old memories. They gave her focus, helped her find the strength to continue her Pilgrimage. Memories of her parents were often her happiest. Her father had reached for the clasps that undid her visor, gently setting it aside. He had called her beautiful. Reaching for his own mask, he pulled it aside, showing her his face for the first time she could remember.

He had gladly taken the sick days for it.

Daro felt a hollow feeling in her gut settle. She continued walking down the scorching stretch of urban decay, trying her best to shrug it off. It was hard to take in that her parents were gone. Going off on Pilgrimage so soon after their passing had not done much for her self-esteem. Now that her parents were gone, it was like the flotilla wanted her to disappear. Shaking her head in defiance, Daro let her lips slide into a sly smile.

She would make her parents proud, and to hell with anyone who got in her way.

Making her way deeper into the settlement, bright neon signs reflected off Daro's visor, welcoming to any who wished to venture into the various businesses and shops. One of the shops had a small paper sign hastily taped to the door. "No quarians". The lone wanderer felt a pang of disgust. Welcoming to all but her, it would seem. She wasn't interested in anything for sale here anyway, nothing here would be enough. Paltry scavenging would not make them proud of her, would not make the fleet accept her. Everywhere she went, she found signs of Eldfell-Ashland Energy, the corporation behind all the mining and shipping of raw materials on Caleston. Brokering a deal for a shipment to be sent to the flotilla was her best choice. The Migrant Fleet would pay for it, provided they could get it cheap enough. Daro hoped to haggle with someone on behalf of her people, a grand gift for the fleet. Glancing around, she approached a stand in the markets, a man with streaks of grease and oil staining his skin and clothes greeting her by way of an irritated snort.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find the Eldfell-Ashland building?" Daro kept her voice cool. Best to be polite and keep things civil.

The man looked her up and down as though inspecting some new form of insect he had discovered. He turned away, spitting a brown stream of something he had been chewing onto the dirt-encrusted concrete before speaking to her through yellowed teeth.

"They ain't gonna hire ya, y'know. Best turn yerself 'round, bucket."

The usual unpleasantness. Daro sighed through her voice modulator, her patience already wearing thin.

"I don't need them to hire me, I just need to speak with them."

The man sneered at her as he pointed towards one of the soot-stained spires in the distance, the silhouette barely visible through the clouds of dust.

"Right there. Now get away from my stand, the customers don't like yer kind puttin' yer funny little hands all over my stuff."

Daro swallowed her pride as she walked away from the pile of scrap and salvage the man called his stand. He wasn't worth her time. She had been shunned and cast out her entire life. What was one more insult?

Walking through the streets of Syneu, Daro saw that even the metropolitan districts of Caleston were more like slums. Shadows stretched oppressively over dirt-crusted streets as black clouds of soot were pumped into the dark sky, swallowing up a distant sun. Her feet were ankle-deep in volcanic ash and sand as she came to the foot of the Eldfell-Ashland building. The towering spire made her seem even less significant in it's monolithic enormity. Daro looked up at the colossal building, her eyes narrowing into a sharp glare. She would not be intimidated. She was a proud daughter of the Fleet.

The doors opened with a soft hiss, the cold, conditioned air of the building immediately rushing to meet her. Her suit's environmental controls immediately compensated for the dramatic change in temperature. The lobby was immaculately clean, an outstanding achievement in and of itself. Had she been more self-conscious, she might have laughed at how strange she looked, a quarian dressed in a ragged shawl trailing dust and sand with her entrance. The secretary sitting behind her sleek desk stared at her like she was a two-headed varren. Daro approached the desk, more dust and sand drifting off of her as she walked.

"I would like to speak with whoever is in charge of shipping contracts. Particularly for drive core materials."

The secretary slowly raised an eyebrow as Daro'Xen spoke, placing her manicured fingernails on the desk with an audible clack.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Now it was Daro's turn to raise a brow.

"What? Why?"

The secretary sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as her words came out in a condescending tone.

"Whoever you are, I can guarantee you that you have no business here. Please don't make me call security."

Daro's arms crossed over her chest, leaning back on one leg as she glared at the human. Just her luck. Were there any aliens on this ancestor forsaken rock who would at least talk to her without disgust? Was that too much to ask?

Of course it was.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to be intimidated? You humans have a very limited understanding of other races, it seems. I will not be turned down simply because you are too ignorant to understand the importance of my mission."

"I understand that you are not supposed to be on this property. I understand that you are thief and a vagrant. Now I'm going to ask you to leave one more time before I call security."

"Thief? The only thief here is you, stealing my time and wasting it. I have important business your supervisor would be interested in, now let me speak with him."

The secretary's omni-tool flared to life as she pressed a holographic key, without doubt sending an alarm to security. Within scant seconds, two men armed with metal rods emerge from one end of the lobby. Daro sized them up immediately, as her Pilgrimage training had taught her, months of grueling exercise and practice honing her into a warrior of the fleet. Her mind had always been sharp, now made sharper by the spear slung over her shoulder, a M-6 Lancer Assault Platform. Her adversary's simple uniforms lacked kinetic barriers, easy prey for her rifle. Their barbaric cudgels stood no chance of breaching her suit, unless they struck her visor. The weight of the assault rifle she carried under her shawl pressed down on her, calling out to her, almost with a hunger all it's own. Killing them would be child's play, but pointless. Even if she killed them, she couldn't win here. She would conserve her bullets for another day, not caring to waste them in such a fruitless endeavor.

Daro turned to the secretary, glaring at her through her pale visor before racing out of the office building. Dust and sand kicked up as she raced down the sweltering streets, the thick footfalls of the security guard's boots on her trail beating into the dirt behind her. Xen slid on the thick layers of dust as she turned a corner, diving into the shadows of a derelict alleyway. The unwitting humans ran past as she hugged the wall, leaving her in the silent shadows. Alone in the darkness. Somehow, it felt comforting.

Daro leaned her back against the wall, slowly sinking to sit in the accumulated dust and sand. Her silver eyes surveyed her miserable surroundings. Was this her lot in life? To wander her entire life alone? Even if she returned, would she ever be home? An outcast among outcasts? To be reviled and shunned? That hollow feeling crawled back into her gut before she shrugged it off. It didn't matter what anyone thought of her. She was proud to call herself a quarian and proud to call the Flotilla her home. She would bring back a mighty gift, from this miserable besotted world or some other remote corner of the galaxy. All she needed was to let her ancestors guide her steps.

Daro slowly got to her feet, a powerful gale of sand tearing through the alleyway as she wrapped her shawl around her. Her steps were shuffles at first, weakly trudging through the sand. Determination slowly returning to her feet, the young quarian walked defiantly out into the harsh wind, her back straight and her head held high.


	2. Longing

Daro's fingers wearily typed at the holographic keys of her omni-tool, attempting to repair the mining laser for what must have been the sixth time this week. Eighteen hour shifts every single day. Triple overtime with no pay. It was like she was a slave, taking her from her Pilgrimage and the Flotilla to work in these abysmal mines. She suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for those unfortunate enough to be taken during the occasional batarian raid. She couldn't imagine doing this until her body finally keeled over, exhausted to the point of death.

Which wasn't to say she didn't feel damn close.

Daro let out a pained sigh, letting her arms droop to her sides. Every muscle screamed at her in agony, her tendons felt tight, tense. Everything hurt. She hadn't slept or eaten today and the heat was getting to her. The suit that clung to her skin worked it's climate controls hard to maintain a measure of comfort. It wasn't succeeding. She caught sight of a group of her "co-workers" lounging about as she slaved away in the scorching heat. Typical alien laziness. She wished she could wipe the sweat from her brow, the intense work causing her to perspire viciously inside the suit, regardless of how cool it tried to keep her. She had done mining work for the fleet before. Every quarian had. It was a fleet responsibility, as was tending to the crops on the Live Ships. That was nothing like this. Hard labor, she could handle. This was torture.

The fact she had been hired by this small mining firm had spoken to their desperation, the economic situation on Caleston apparently forcing the majority of the populace into poverty. She had naively hoped that the foreman had recognized her skills when he had chosen to hire her. Instead it seemed he had intended to work her until she dropped dead. Story of her life; everything had a catch. Not that she had a choice in the matter. She needed to eat and there was almost no chance of her getting a job elsewhere. It was meager pay, but she had been saving just a little each week in the hopes of buying passage off-world. Her efforts to broker a deal with Eldfell-Ashland had failed. She needed to start over somewhere else. That was fine with her. She'd just work harder to get what she needed. She wasn't above doing the dirty work, as long as it got her what she wanted.

"Hey, bitch! I don't see you working!"

A sneering voice spoke up from the gallery of dirt-encrusted faces. She recognized it as belonging to a turian who apparently had a particular problem with her presence. Turians hated quarians more than the average alien. Turians believed everyone should have a place, a purpose. Those who didn't wear face paint to show their allegiances were automatically looked down upon. Quarians didn't even have faces. Nomads with no home, no place anywhere.

"Stupid quarian whore. I can't believe my taxes actually go to supporting your kind of filth here. Lazy bucket probably never had to work a day in it's life."

Daro turned to glare at the turian, he and his throng of filth cackling at her misfortune. Just words. She returned to working away at her omni-tool. Always with the words. "Bitch" and "whore" had replaced "freak" and "pariah". She couldn't decide if that was worse or better. Probably worse. She was too tired to really think about it. She had long since given up reasoning with them, trying to explain the Pilgrimage and her reasons for coming to Caleston. They were a minor annoyance at best, ignorant of her and the people they so casually cast to the dirt. It didn't faze her. She was a proud daughter of the Fleet. Even if they hated and reviled her, she knew this mining equipment like the surface of her visor. Pressing one last holographic key, the mining laser roared to life as the beam reenergized, tearing away at the stone and filling the mine with deafening noise; her cloak billowed out into the wind with a violent sweeping motion. She walked away from the laser, mocking applause and jeering remarks her only companion. She paid them no mind. The surveying equipment was next. At least that was on the surface, away from the other miners and their buffoonery.

A blaring siren suddenly sounded, greeted with jubilant cries from the other miners. Their shift was over, as was hers. Thank the ancestors. Daro walked towards the lift, the foreman's voice cutting through the noise of the deactivating laser and stopping her in her tracks.

"Not you, Xen. Come see me in my office. Now."

Daro took a long sigh before turning around and taking the private lift to the foreman's office. Sitting in the cramped elevator, she ran through the numerous possible reasons for this no doubt disciplinary chat. It would likely involve the fact that the sole mining laser was offline for nearly the entire shift. Offline primarily because of the fact he was willing to overwork aged equipment in a desperate attempt to make a profit. He needed someone to yell at. Naturally, he chose the quarian. Having a bad day? Yell at the quarian. Lose your wallet? Blame the quarian. Want some target practice? Shoot at the quarian. They don't feel pain, they're just suits that seem to stand and talk on their own. They aren't people like the rest of us.

The lift came to halt near the entrance of the mine, the foreman's office built into the rocky walls of the descending tunnel to the mine itself. Daro took a deep breath before walking into the office, a small space even by quarian standards, made even more cramped by the clutter of papers and tools scattered across the floor.

The foreman, a bloated and sweating human, sat behind his worn desk, the warm glow of his terminal exposing his dry, cracked skin for the creviced mess it was. He didn't bother looking up as he waved her in, typing furiously at his console. Typical. Just ignore the suit. She won't mind. It's not like she's just spent the past 18 hours breaking her back for you. She doesn't want to go home and get some rest, she won't mind being worked half to death without a break. Bosh'tet. His face was red and was sweating profusely as he typed. Daro found him revolting. There were no fat quarians, the reason being that no one person had more than another, food being a carefully monitored commodity. No doubt the recent economic plummet had made his life rather stressful; such a girth clearly required a great deal of sustenance. A desperate man who made a profit over other people's hard work. It wasn't hard to hate him, especially not when you came from a society where everyone helped the other, and did so whether they were the captain or a child. Even being a social outcast, Daro had always offered a helping hand to her fellow quarian, and a hand was always offered her, even if it was done grudgingly. She cleared her throat in an effort to gain his attention. She wanted nothing more than to be without his presence. He looked up from his console, his lips curled upwards as he spoke.

"Give me a reason why I shouldn't fire you."

Daro was taken aback by the blatant disdain in his question. What an odd thing to ask. Humans were strange. Was he trying to trick her? It was an obvious answer.

"You hired me because you needed the best engineer you could find. I am worth seven of your best on my worst day." Her tone spoke volumes. 'Idiot. I'm tired. I want to go home. Stop wasting my time.'

The foreman's stubby fingers came together as though pondering what she said, slowly standing from his desk, he gazed out of the steel shutters of his office to watch his employees exit the mine into the billowing sandstorms of the surface.

"I know you don't have anywhere else to go, quarian. There isn't a single place on this planet that would hire one of your kind." Daro narrowed her eyes. Of course she knew that, he hadn't stopped hammering it into her head since she got here. She did what he asked and didn't even complain, why was he wasting her time like this?

The foreman pressed a key on the side of the window frame, closing the shutters loudly as he continued speaking, a single, flickering, dull light faintly keeping his face visible.

"I've been generous. Now it's your turn."

Daro raised a brow under her visor. Generous? Like hell. What was he taking about? This didn't make sense. Damn humans and their games. Couldn't anyone ever just speak plain? She had always hated that about other people. She held no secrets, she wasn't afraid for her opinions to be known. It irritated her when other people weren't blunt and honest in their meaning.

"I've been working triple overtime without pay. I don't know what else I can do without you working me into the grave. If you want the repairs and drilling to go faster, hire more engineers." Daro had a hard time believing this repugnant lump of a man ever managed to get a business degree. Even growing up in a system as communal as the quarian's, she was able to ascertain that much at least.

The foreman slithered behind her, his hands creeping to her shoulders as he rubbed them through her suit. Daro felt herself go rigid. What the hell was he doing?

"I can think of a few... other ways you can make yourself useful." His voice was quiet, but sounded oily and cracked. Demanding even. She could feel his pudgy little sausages rubbing into her suit, but didn't know what to do, momentary shock locking her into place.

His hands slowly slid lower from her shoulders, stubby fingers gripping at her armored bust. Daro's eyes widened in horror as the realization of his intentions struck her. Her hands moved swiftly, despite her exhausted muscles, pushing his arms away, using fluid momentum to push him to the side in an elegant display of quarian martial arts. Strength through fluidity and manipulation of the natural world's laws of physics. She was an expert. The foreman staggered and fell against the wall, caught off balance. She could feel his burning gaze on her back. Her eyes narrowed into a sharp glare as he circled out in front of her. He brought his sweaty face up to her visor, his face going red as he shouted and spat at her.

"Listen to me you stupid slut, I don't give a damn about you! I could throw you out of this place and I wouldn't loose a single second of sleep over it. So you had better get down on your knees if you know what's good for you." Daro was appalled. Get down on her knees? Did this imbecile have any inkling as to what that entailed for her? Didn't he know that removing her mask, especially in such an unsanitary and ill-kept setting could kill her? Was he completely oblivious to the social stigma with even showing another your face in quarian society? Daro was disgusted. This fool mistook her for a common prostitute. A common sack of glands and organs to be used at his leisure. The irony made her sick to her stomach. Not good enough to be treated like a person, but he was eager to make her his personal pleasure toy? Rage at the injustice and indignity of her predicament cascaded against her heart like a roaring supernova, scorching entire worlds in it's heat.

Daro's voice came out clear and cold as glacial ice.

"No."

The foreman staggered back as though physically struck. Foolish ape. He had likely expected her to bend to his will like an asari hooker. What he should have been expecting was a bullet in his thick skull.

"W-What?"

"No." Daro's voice was frigid, threatening to freeze the foreman in his place. "I will not be your whore." Words couldn't kill, but hers came as close as one could ever hope to expect.

"What the hell makes you think I'm giving you a choice in the matter?" Daro's boss sounded menacing, clearly trying to intimidate her. It wasn't working.

"As charming as you are, I am not in the habit of dating swine." Her word's cut like daggers, threatening to leave the man bleeding on the floor, drowning in his own fluids. "You will never touch me again." Daro's finger was aimed threateningly between the man's eyes. "You will keep me on as an engineer, and if you ever so much as look at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable, I'll personally set every piece of equipment you own to self-destruct in your face. You need me to make a profit." Money. That was a language this worthless fat sack could understand.

The foreman's lips quivered as he tightened his fists with white-knuckled fury, his voice cracking as his shouts turned to screams of impotent rage.

"Get out of here! You're working quad-shifts for the rest of the week! If you so much as show up late, I'll have your ass arrested for vagrancy, damn bucket-faced bitch! Get out of my office!" Xen scoffed at his notion of what constituted an office. Without a word, she turned with an elegant motion as she exited the office, a sly smirk across her lips as she turned her head to look back at him.

"I'm also taking tomorrow off as my monthly vacation day. I hope you don't mind." The smile was evident in her voice.

Daro exited the office, hearing the foreman's screams of rage and the loud crash of him overturning his desk as she descended the staircase out into the mine entrance. She took a particular satisfaction in putting him in his place, leaving him in the dark of the mine as she emerged out into the howling gale of the surface. Volcanic dust and ash replaced jagged stone as she began the long trek back to the shelter she had made her temporary home. Daro pulled her mother's cloak tighter around her body as the sandstorm swept by. Arrogant bastard. She would not kneel to that slovenly piece of refuse that dared to call itself a man. She was a proud daughter of the Fleet, a soldier and a scientist of her people, fighting for the home her parents had loved, even if it had never truly accepted her. She was not somebody's pet, to be touched and groped at it's master's beck and call.

She had never shared her body with anyone before. The concept of sharing herself with that animal was nauseating. She hadn't met a man in her life she could honestly say she had wanted in that way. Of course she had thought about it from time to time, but there wasn't a man for her, not one she had met. Most had shunned her, and she had been content to be alone, the love of her parents and her thirst for knowledge sustaining her. Part of her wondered if there ever would be someone for her. Even if she returned home and found her place in a new crew, would anyone care to see her as who she was? Maybe once she left this awful world and found her way home, she could try. Joining a new crew was a new beginning in the life of a quarian. A new start. Her heart yearned at the prospect. To find love, far away from this desolate barren waste of a world, someone who saw past the mask she wore on her face, past the mask worn on her heart. That's all she had ever wanted. Someone who cared. Her parents had filled that role, and Shen'Reth had always been there, but they were in the past now. She needed to move forward.

Wistfully, her eyes trained upwards as she saw the tell-tale silhouettes of starships of all shapes and sizes soaring up into the heavens. Daro sighed mournfully at the majestic sight. Part of her wanted nothing more than to risk stowing away and forgetting about this hellish planet. Risking capture and whatever cruel punishment imagined by her captors seemed almost worth it in comparison. Even the turian shelter she laughably called her home was little more than a varren's den to hide her from the wild jungle of sharp steel and jagged mountains. Every night she had to swallow her pride as she made her bed in a place filled to the brim with glares and hateful words. Every day she awoke to return to a black pit filled with people who spat on her or tried to exploit her. Was this punishment? Had she offended the Ancestors in some way? She'd never know. She was a woman of science, never having put much purchase into spiritualism and superstition. She had no patience for fairytales.

Nothing could have prepared her for this though, not science, not religion. All of her training, all of her parent's warnings, all of the strength her pride gave her, none of it could have adequately prepared her for being cast out into a galaxy that despised her and spat on her kind. She hated that she was forced to scrape at the bottom rung of life just to survive. She hated that her people were treated like refuse for mistakes made generations ago. She hated that she was forced to suffer in the empty spaces between worlds to bring back a gift for a home that never wanted her. She really hated how a person who saw her as dirt would at the same time be so casual about taking her to his bed, against her will no less. She wasn't a person, just a thing, a suit, a toy, no better than a nerve stimulator. That she had feelings or dreams of her own were of no consequence.

Daro sighed as she walked through the street's of Syneu, the throbbing bass resonating from a nearby night club breaking her from her somber thoughts. It was still relatively early and she was in no rush to return to the so-called "shelter". A drink would do her some good. The door to the club opened with a barely audible hiss, letting her pass through yet another door at the end of a short hallway for the purpose of keeping the sand out. Furious rhythms and pounding bass met her at the entrance, the smoky club filled with patrons returning from their work shifts. Dark red light left everything half in shadow, dark silhouettes of bodies moving to the beat on the dance floor. Daro weaved her way through the crowds as she approached the bar, hailing the turian bartender leaning against the large rack of neon backlit drinks behind him. Daro didn't bother shouting, instead adjusting the volume of her voice modulator as she slammed a credit chit onto the bar.

"Something strong."

The turian shrugged as he pocketed the credit chit, his talons pointing at the rack of drinks as though searching for one in particular. He returned with a clear cylindrical tube filled with a dark blue drink, a small notch in the top. He leaned closer to speak into the audio enhancers of her helmet.

"Quarian-safe."

Daro examined the cylinder, realizing the notch was meant to interface with the feeding tubes of her helmet. The turian winked as he resumed his relaxed leaning against the drink racks. Daro let a slight smile escape from behind her visor. It was nice to see at least one person cared enough to help her when she paid for it. Her hand went to one of the feeding tubes of her helmet, gently working at the magnetic clasp that kept it attached as she twisted the notch at the top of the cylinder. The small hole in the lid allowed her to slide the tube down into the drink like a straw of sorts. The overpowering scent of the drink immediately made itself known to her. Daro gingerly sucked at the tube, letting the strong flavor of the alcohol fill her mouth. It wasn't half bad, really. She rarely made time for luxuries like this. Maybe she would come back tomorrow. Constant work with no recreation was taking it's toll on her. She needed a distraction. She'd never been one for alcohol, but at this point, she wasn't above much of anything.

Daro nursed her drink as she let the music of the club wash over her, feeling her thoughts drift back to home. Even if she was not wanted aboard the Khalos, she would find a new home. She had always been fond of the Moreh, her mother's birth ship. A lab vessel. The people there focused only on the advancement of the quarian race, there was only the work for a better tomorrow. The perfect place to make her ancestors proud of her, if they truly still existed as more than ether. She wasn't opposed to the idea of afterlife, but she wasn't entirely convinced of it either. Not enough data on the subject. Until science gave her a solid answer, there was no answer. It didn't matter at any rate. She had other concerns at the moment that didn't involve death; at least, she hoped it didn't. First, she needed to find a way off of Caleston. Second, she would find a new place to search for a Pilgrimage gift. Then it was just a matter of getting it. Then she would have her glorious return home. A deep feeling of longing settled into her. She would find a new home, no matter the cost, and people would respect her, maybe even love her. Was that so much to ask for? Was that too much to dream for?

A shadow fell over Daro, turning her visor behind her to meet the face of the same turian from the mines. Three humans and another turian flanked him. His mandibles twitched as he grinned at her. Cowards. They traveled in packs. The quarian's knew no such weakness. They had all learned to survive on their own through pilgrimage, and had returned to a family the size of an armada, ready to serve as a part of the community, or as a solitary unit.

"Remember me, bitch?"

Daro smirked as she came to the realization that she had never bothered to learn his name.

"No, I'm afraid not. You are thoroughly unremarkable."

The unremarkable turian tilted his head to the side, anger showing in his tone, in his body language. Turning back to her drink, Daro had hoped the lumbering fool would leave her be. She knew it was an empty wish.

"The boss cut our wages today. Said the drill going down cost too much time. 'X minus y' and all that." The turian made quotation marks in the air as he spoke. The others nodded and snorted at his words.

"We have you to thank for that. Stupid suit. Probably has no idea what I'm talking about. There a calculator in there, bucket? I bet you couldn't do simple math without it."

It was clear where this was going. Daro silently cursed herself for leaving her weapons back at the shelter. Her knife would have to be sufficient. They didn't appear to be armed, but their intention was doubtlessly malicious. Daro pulled the feeding tube from her drink, reattaching it to the magnetic clasp of her helmet as she stood to face her would-be attackers. Her silver eyes narrowed into a glare that could kill.

"You only have yourselves to thank for what happens next."


	3. Trust

Daro quickly sized up her opponents as they circled her in the dark red half-light of the club. Five drunk miners, no matter how muscular, had little chance against her. She was the top of her class in hand to hand, a master of wielding and re-directing momentum. Their size and sluggish reflexes would work to her advantage. Her feet slid into a combative stance, the silver almonds of her eyes darting from enemy to enemy as though daring one of them to strike first. The miners surrounded her, Daro was ready to counter anything her adversaries hoped to throw at her. The law of conservation of energy was appropriate here. Anything they dished, she would gladly turn back onto them, herself neither creating or destroying the energy, only redirecting it.

'Go ahead, bosh'tets. Make a move.'

A voice picked up above the pounding bass of the club's music. She could make out another human strutting confidently towards Daro's group of would-be assailants. One on six, and the odds were still in her favor. She smiled inwardly. Child's play.

"You guys wouldn't be happening to be giving the lady a hard time, would ya? That ain't very proper," said the newcomer. Judging from his disheveled appearance, Daro had to wonder what exactly passed for this idiot's definition of proper. A smug grin crossed the human's face as he weaved between the circle of thugs, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. Standing between Daro and the disgruntled group that was threatening her, he kept his voice cool and civil, seemingly trying to defuse the situation. That was a new one for the quarian pilgrim, having become unaccustomed to anyone standing up on her behalf during her travels. She felt a pang of sadness at the thought. She was seriously starting to miss Shen.

"Can't we all just get along?"

Daro glanced at the human as he stood by her side, dropping his arms as he chuckled at his latest quip, shrugging carelessly with a smile plastered all over his worn face. He was built strongly for one of his species, likely another miner. He looked like he had spent a great deal of time doing hard labor himself, his face stained and withered from Caleston's constant state of erosion. Glancing over his rugged attire, Daro's trained eyes caught sight of the pistol he wore under his jacket. Their eyes met at last, the human giving her a sly wink.

The turian that had been a constant source of harassment for her took a step forward, pointing one of his talons at the human newcomer. "Get out of our way, kid. We have a whole lot to thank the bucket-faced carpet-cleaner for," he snarled, exposing predator's teeth. "Lazy thing can't even keep our equipment runnin', boss took it out of our paychecks. She owes us hers." The human at her flank seemed visibly disturbed, either from the turian's remarks or from his alcohol laced breath. Daro wasn't sure which.

In a smooth flourish, the hooded woman brought up her leg and unsheathed her knife. It's weight was balanced, it's grip comfortable in her hand. It had belonged to her father. The blade was long and thin, designed to slip between ribs or vertebrae. A pure killing tool. If they wanted her hard earned credits, they were welcome to come and take them, provided they didn't die in the process.

"Step aside, human. I do not need your help," Daro said coldly. This human was strange. He stood up for her, someone he didn't know, a quarian of all things, for no real reason. Whether he was mad, drunk, or just plain stupid, Daro didn't care. It was one of only a handful of kindnesses she had been offered during her long journey. She was not going to repay it by watching this man lose his life. Better he turn around and go home. She would handle this.

The human outright laughed. Maybe he really was mad, or at the least severely intoxicated. Five men staring him down and he laughed? Of one thing, she was certain: this alien was a fool.

"You're worried about little old me? I'm flattered," he inquired curiously, almost as if asking a child. Daro arched an eyebrow. Was this guy serious?

The turian's mandibles flared as he approached the human, rage fueling him, his voice flanging dangerously, "I don't think you heard me ri-"

A sharp hiss was heard over the pounding bass as the capacitors of the human's pistol whined to life, aiming the weapon straight at the turian's withered face.

"No, I heard you just fine. Question is, will you hear this before it kills you?" The human pressed the barrel to the turian's head, all laughter gone from his voice. "I don't think you will."

The gang of miners took a handful of precarious steps back, one wisely deciding to retreat. The turian's mandibles twitched, fear shining in his eyes. His little pack of mongrels was breaking. Daro felt a wave of disgust. Cowards. She hated cowards. People who were afraid to fight and work for their way in life were not worth the resources that kept them alive, and people who could not follow through with their convictions because of inherent danger were no better. She sighed under her visor. Pathetic.

"You ain't got the guts, kid," the turian said. His voice held no passion, no strength. Daro knew he didn't believe his own words. She secretly hoped the dust-laden human would simply pull the trigger and save her the agony of having to put up with her co-worker's snide remarks in the future. She certainly wouldn't miss it.

The human smirked at the enraged turian, cruel mirth glittering in his gaze, "Don't worry about my guts. Worry about yours. Unless you want them decorating the walls, I'd leave." Daro laughed at that, her voice not rising above the bass. This alien was amusing, if nothing else.

The turian turned to Xen, his black eyes glossy with hate as he pointed a talon at her, "we aren't done, bitch. See you at the office." Turians. They always had to have the last word.

The turian and his lackeys made their exit, the human grinning with smug satisfaction at their retreat. He twirled the pistol in his hand playfully before returning it to his side, turning back to her with what might have been concern in his eye.

"You okay?"

Daro's eyes narrowed. His efforts might have been genuine, but she did not believe his concern was. It had to be a trick, or there was a catch, some kind of loophole. Nobody was ever nice to her without having something to gain from it. Certainly not an alien.

"I didn't need your help." She made sure he knew she had no problem with taking on five armed men. She was not a damsel in distress. Anything to help mitigate a possible confrontation. Intimidation had been known to work invariably, though it was less effective without her rifle. The human shrugged, another lopsided grin worming it's way across his face. She had never seen someone smiling so much. It was unnerving.

"I don't like it when people mess with my good time. Simple as that. They friends of yours or something?"

Daro sighed under her helmet, "something. A group of racist idiots I am forced to scrape out a living working with."

The human chuckled, shaking his head as his smile widened across his lips.

"I hear that."

Daro heard a soft chime resonate from her omni-tool, her alarm reminding her that the shelter she had made her temporary home was closing soon. The human tilted his head curiously.

"Problem?"

"I need to get back to the shelter."

"Which one?"

Daro was momentarily taken back by his question. Why did he care? She was grateful for his actions, misplaced though they may have been, but it still made her nervous that he seemed so concerned. What was his angle?

"Kanek's? It's just past the markets."

The human waved his hand dismissively. "Seriously? That place is a dive. Lot of crime in that district anyway. You can stay at my place. Lay low for awhile, if you'd like. Those guys definitely didn't seem like the type to just let things be."

Daro raised a brow under her visor. Did he just suggest that she stay with him? He treated it so casually, like he was remarking about the weather. Something wasn't right.

"Why would you want to invite me into your home?" Daro was genuinely curious. "I'm a quarian." She shrugged, adding it almost as an afterthought.

The human shrugged, a smirk stretching across his face once more. "You'd be doing me a favor. I honestly wouldn't mind a bit of company. If you're not comfortable with it, that's cool, just thought I'd ask."

Daro's heart sank. She knew what this was about.

"I don't know what it is with people on this rock, but I'm a quarian, we're not just talking suits, we're actual people, hard as it may be for your limited minds to come to terms with it. I'm not some plaything you can take back with you. If you're feeling that lonely, talk to the asari down the street, I'm sure they'd be happy to oblige, even for someone as filthy as you." Daro was getting tired of humans and their obsession with her. From what she understood, quarians had a very attractive figure by human standards, but this was starting to get just plain irritating.

The human seemed to study her for a moment, sizing her up. 'Go ahead and look, bosh'tet', thought Xen, 'that's all you're going to be doing.'

After a moment, he shrugged absently, "I was just offering a place for you to crash. I wasn't lookin' for anything like that, just thought you could use a place to keep it low-key. Thought it might be nice to have someone to talk to. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Daro felt her cheeks unwillingly flush under her mask. This was unusual. No doubt he had some ulterior motive. He had to. Nobody she had ever known was kind to quarians just for the hell of it. Still, if he really wanted to try something, he could have just collected whatever was left of her after the other miners had had their way. Daro shook her head. She would just need to keep an eye on him. It wasn't like she had a better chance of survival at the shelter.

"Daro'Xen nar Khalos," she said by way of introduction, tilting her head and nodding politely. Quarians often greeted each other by way of exchanging names. It allowed them to identify each other despite their suits.

The human smiled, bowing his head slightly as he spoke, "Name's Jason. Jason Dray. Friends call me Jay, or at least they would if I had any friends."

Jason's eyes widened, a smirk slowly forming as he chuckled.

"I think you're going to need to write yours down for me, though. How about I just call you Dee until then? That way my tongue doesn't fall off every time I try to say your name."

Xen crossed her arms imperiously. "My name is Daro. Think you can handle that much? Or should I have it changed to something with fewer syllables?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Jason shrugged as he started walking out of the club. "Right. You're the boss. Come on. Your shelter is on the way. You need to grab anything from there before we head out?" Nodding, Daro followed him out the door.

The duo exited out into the sand-blasted streets, thick clouds of dust making the night even more obscure. Daro pulled her shawl tighter around her body. Jason didn't seem to mind, flipping the collar of his jacket up and pulling a pair of tinted goggles over his eyes. Life on Caleston must have made sandstorms and choking dust clouds insignificant to him. Tonight was worse than usual, the gale sending enough sand onto Daro's visor to make a deafeningly loud scratching inside her helmet. A particular powerful gust caused her to stop in her tracks, her shawl billowing violently out behind her. Jason turned back to her, holding out his hand to help her along.

Daro's hand reached out, stopping hesitantly before her three fingers gripped at his five. Her training told her that this was a vulnerable position. Low visibility. Hostile environment. Dominating stance for the opponent who was also armed. She doubted he would lure her out into a sandstorm after defending her against a pack of barbarians just to take advantage of her. Still, if he did, he would be in for the fight of his life; she hadn't sheathed her knife. They walked hand-in-hand as they made their way through the ferocious sandstorm, Daro making out the vague outline of the shelter's entrance not far in the distance. Jason reached the entrance, slamming the green light of the access panel to open the door. Drifting gusts of sand heralded their arrival to the vocal discontent of the turians who were packed in the cramped space.

Jason raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, addressing everyone present in a dramatic fashion as Daro made her way over to the small corner she had claimed for her own.

"Relax, relax. A little sand. Won't hurt you. Much. The lady just needs to pick up some..."

Daro hefted the Lancer over her shoulder, the magnetic clasps of her suit securing the weapon to her back as she let her shawl fall over it. The quarian quickly made her way back towards the entrance, eager to be away from the hateful glares of the turians. Jason followed her every movement in surprised silence. Apparently, he hadn't expected her to pull out a military grade assault rifle from under her cot.

"... things? Huh... Anyway... Thank you for your patience ladies and gentlemen. We'll be on our way."

The doors of the shelter opened once again, sending a gale of sand and dust into the turians behind them. Jason waved their complaints away dismissively as he stepped into the storm at Daro's side, her hands resting on her hips. He leaned in to speak into the audio enhancers of her helmet over the howling winds of the sandstorm, his hand finding hers once more.

"Follow me. Stay close."

Daro braved the ferocity of the sandstorm with Jason leading her by his hand, trusting the human's ability to navigate the blinding cloud of ash. Thankfully, there was no vehicular activity in a storm this fierce. The quarian did not enjoy the prospect of being blindly led into oncoming traffic. Daro silently thanked whatever genius had designed her envirosuit to weather the extremes of the galaxy. Yet another proud product of quarian engineering. The sand and dust was uncomfortable enough without the prospect of the howling winds tearing at her sensitive skin.

Jason led her father and further into the city, whatever landmarks there might have been completely obscured by the storm. Part of her was concerned that this foolhardy human had gotten them lost, but his steps spoke confidence. He seemed to know where he was going. How he did was beyond her. He must have grown up here to know the city well enough to walk through it blindly. If anything, she could trust his own survival instincts. Something that basic was always dependable.

Daro could make out the looming shadow of an approaching structure, a ramshackle storefront with an apartment built above it that looked as though it had been abandoned long ago. He lived here? Drawing closer to the entrance, she saw that shutters had been installed on the windows, likely after it was abandoned and Jason moved in. Very resourceful. Daro could respect that, even if it was little better than a slum. Jason reached out at the doors, pulling one of them to the side to let her inside. Cool air rushed to meet her as she entered the storefront, reconfigured into a living room and a kitchen. The base of the structure must have been a restaurant or something similar, worn ovens and grills left behind half of a demolished counter. Jason slid the doors shut using hastily welded metal handles, the door shutting with a pneumatic hiss.

"Feel free to make yourself comfortable. Plenty of room on the second floor. Uh... third floor is out. No stairs up. There's a shower, too... If you need one... Uh..." It was obvious his knowledge of quarians was severely limited.

Daro was hardly comfortable, trapped by her own will in a slum with a strange human after she had nearly worked herself into an early coffin. Jason pulled the goggles off, leaving circles of grime around his eyes as he tossed his jacket onto a nearby table. A grin crossed his face as he made his way to a set of stairs around the corner of the kitchen.

"Speaking of which, I could use one. There's room for two, if you're interested," he said playfully. Daro couldn't tell if the human was joking, or if he was just plain insensitive. Probably both.

"Standing that close to you would likely cover me in even more filth, shower or not."

Jason let out a hearty laugh before walking up the stairs, the groaning sound of piping echoing through the building as the shower turned on. Daro took this opportunity to take inventory of her surroundings. It reminded her of the Flotilla, ironically. Everything was very minimalist. Although this was likely due to poverty rather than efficiency. It would at least be better than the shelter, provided her "host" didn't attempt anything. She had no illusions about it, this was only temporary. Likely tonight and tomorrow. It would be unwise to be out with those miners looking for her. Best to give them some time to cool off. Still, it was best to be prepared should anything untoward occur. Maybe there were a few aliens out there with the quarian spirit, the desire to help others that came naturally, but she wasn't taking any chances. Unfolding her rifle, Daro cradled it. Better safe than dead.

Daro's training took over, measuring every angle and surface of the living room and kitchen for tactical advantage. Plenty of space. Furniture carries plenty of inherent uses. Kitchen utensils would make fine improvised weapons for both combatants. She didn't notice as Jason made his decent from the second floor, running a ragged towel through his short hair. He stopped at the sight of her rifle.

"Seriously?"

Daro's head snapped up. She considered him for a moment, then folded it back up, but did not slide it back onto her suit. "Fair enough?"

Jason's brow quirked up. "I guess. So… you, uh,… you like the place?"

Looking around the room, Daro decided to stick to the truth.

"It's... quaint."

Well, close enough anyway.

Jason smirked as he tossed the towel onto the back of a nearby chair, stretching his arms up over his head.

"Plenty of room upstairs, like I said. Empty for the most part. One or two beds..."

Daro's eyes narrowed under her visor. Jason raised his hands defensively.

"... That aren't mine! Relax."

Daro's arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back on one leg, disapproval evident in her tone. "I think I would prefer the couch."

Yes, the couch. Closer to the door. Far away from him. She wasn't comfortable sleeping in the same room as a stranger. Her nights at the shelter had been sleepless ones, despite her desperate need of rest.

"You sure? I get why you might be a little shaky about this, but I promise I'm not going to try anything. I'd have already done something by now if that was the case."

"I was groped by my employer today after working a back breaking eighteen hour shift in a miserable pit, only to then be harassed by a group of diseased pyjaks that think I'm some kind of talking object. You'll excuse me if I am less than trusting." Daro's tone was perhaps slightly more harsh than was necessary. Still, she was exhausted, and the day's events had taken a toll on her. She just wanted a single night of good sleep.

A frown crossed the human's face, the first one she had seen from him.

"I... uh... I'm sorry. To be fair though, you do have very nice hips, I can see why he'd be interested." Daro was severely unimpressed.

"Right, sorry. I'm going to head up... There's food in the fridge... If you can eat it... You're certainly welcome to anything you're capable of digesting. 'Night."

Daro could visibly see his shoulder hunch over as he walked away. A sigh escaped her voice modulator.

"Wait..."

Jason turned as he came to the foot of the stairwell.

"There aren't very many people who would defend... someone like me and then offer them a place to stay… I…" Daro had never been good at this sort of thing. "Thank you. I guess."

The human smirked again, an expression he seemed to take to regularly.

"No problem. Besides... You're easy on the eyes. 'Night, Dee."

"My name is Daro'Xen!" She said it with a slightly playful tone, despite herself. The human chuckled as he made his way up the stairs, leaving the weary nomad unwittingly blushing under her mask. Easy on the eyes? She shook the thought from her head. She was acting absurd. He was vulgar and shallow and... kind. He had invited her into his home without a second thought. Daro still could not fully believe it. She actually sat in one place without a sneering look or a hateful remark. It was so foreign to her. Part of her actually felt safer here. She felt like she could finally rest at ease. She hadn't felt that since her parents had died. It was strange. He didn't turn his nose up at her. He didn't shun her.

He was a very weird human. Daro smirked under her helmet. She liked weird.

The pain in her muscles suddenly came to the forefront, every fiber of her body aching to be laid to rest. The intense work day combined with the heat and the storms had taken their toll on the quarian, Daro gingerly lowered her body onto the couch. It was less than ideal, but it was something. At least the interior lining of her suit was soft enough to ignore the various lumps and tears in the furniture. She didn't care. She was so tired that solid concrete would seem preferable than staying on her feet a moment longer. Daro's silver eyes grew heavy as her thoughts drifted to the human who had so kindly shared his home with her. Her dreams were filled with longing that she had finally found a person she could trust on this awful world. She knew it was a foolish thing to do. There had to be a catch somewhere.

Still, it felt good to hope.

Daro was suddenly aware that she was awake. Her eyes were open in a flash. Sunlight leaked through the cracks in the shutters. It was morning. She couldn't even recall having fallen asleep. She felt around, her fingers tracing themselves over her folded up rifle that she had slept with under her pillow. Good, the human hadn't tried anything.

The cloaked quarian did a double take. The human hadn't done anything. That was something, wasn't it? Daro took a moment to consider that, lazily blinking the sleep from her eyes as her heart slowed down. Reclining into the musty old couch, She let her sore muscles stretch out. Everything ached, but at least she was well rested. Pulling out a small tube from a pouch on one of her belts, Daro connected it to one of feeding tubes under her chin, disengaging it with a soft his before attaching it to what passed as her breakfast. Sucking gingerly on the tube, trying to draw out the taste as long as she could, the refreshed quarian sat deep in thought, her mind already fully alert, even if her body was being sluggish.

Quarian goes on Pilgrimage. Quarian gets in trouble. Dashing person steps in and helps Quarian. Person accepts quarian into home. Person is nice to quarian. Daro had heard this train of thought before, and it always led to one of two outcomes. It was either something that was heard in fairytales or outlandish Pilgrimage stories, neither of which she put much purchase into, or it was part of a warning issued to pre-pilgrim recruits, divulging to them the dangers of a galaxy that had a long and dirty history of taking advantage of her people and their naiveté. Growing up isolated from the galaxy and it's dangers made Pilgrimage inherently dangerous, as most were unaccustomed to the blatant racism and the concept of taking advantage of another being; everyone on the Flotilla was raised to share and work together, judging based only on character.

Still, here she was, unharmed. It was strange to her. She wasn't used to anyone going out of their way for her, not even on the flotilla. Again, Daro let her mind drift back to Shen. They had met shortly after gaining their own suits as small children. She had been taking a particularly harsh verbal beating that day from one of the other children after finding out she had cut up a small, stuffed varren. She hadn't meant to destroy the small toy, at least, that wasn't her intention. She was just curious. Her parents were biologists, they did that sort of thing all the time, and she was simply trying to imitate them. She hadn't thought that anyone would care if she "experimented" on the ragged old thing, nobody played with it. The other boy had likely simply used it as an excuse to pick on her. The other children were always picking on her. Not that day. While she had sat there sniffling at the remarks, "freak" and "creepy" chief among them, clinging to the mutilated doll, another boy in a tattered red suit had come over and told the bully to leave her alone. He had ended up pushing the other boy to the ground, earning the ire of their day-watcher. After a thorough scolding, he had approached Daro and introduced himself. They were inseparable ever since. She had never forgotten the experience.

A muffled shuffling could be heard from above. A moment later, Jason was walking down the stairs, wearing a tattered old pair of work pants and a white undershirt. Catching Daro's eye, he flashed his characteristic smirk at her.

"Glad to see you're up." For a moment the two stared at one another, an awkward silence settling in the room. "So, uh, you slept well, I hope?"

Daro relaxed a little bit. She still felt out of her element trusting someone outside of the flotilla. Not that she had trusted many inside the flotilla, but at least she had faith in her people, even if they didn't always have faith in her.

"I slept well enough. Again, you have my thanks." It was more than most ever got.

Dray nodded by way of acknowledgement, then suddenly froze, staring at Daro for a moment with his eyebrow arched inquisitively.

"Did you actually sleep in that helmet and armor?"

Tilting her head to the side, Daro crossed her arms defensively. "Your ignorance is astounding. Do you make it a habit of inviting people from species you know nothing about into your home? What if one of them had the nasty habit of eating brains as a midnight snack?" Xen didn't mean to sound rude, but it annoyed her that even someone who took the time to help her knew nothing about her people.

Jason's face was neutral for once. "Do quarians eat people's brains?"

Daro's eyes narrowed. "No."

Jason's face lit back up. "Good. I was worried there for a second." Working his way over to what passed as a kitchen, he lit the burners and began making himself breakfast. Looking over his shoulder, he asked "so, what exactly is it with the suit? Don't get me wrong, you make it look totally hot, I'm just curious. Are quarians like volus or something?"

Rising to her feet, Daro unfolded her arms, choosing to instead interlace her fingers behind her back. It was an open stance, one she rarely took to. "Not at all. Quarians have weak immune systems from living so long aboard starships. We can't take them off outside the flotilla without getting some kind of sickness." Daro was a scientist. Talking to her about the weather or who won last week's game of claw ball did nothing for her. Getting her started on a topic she was interested in, however, invariably led to her rambling almost obsessively. "If we really wanted to, we could take them off, but it would require a great deal of anti-biotics to stay out for extended periods of time. My people don't have the resources for such luxuries. We eat, sleep, and die in these suits." Dray could detect a small trace of sadness in Xen's words, but kept silent, letting her continue. "Volus wear their suits because they can't breathe oxygen. Irune, their home world, also has abnormally high atmospheric pressure. Suit removal in environments with Caleston's level of pressure would result in muscular expansion and dermal laceration."

Daro stopped talking for a moment. Jason was chuckling.

"What's so funny?" she inquired. Had she done something wrong? Was he going to laugh at her and mock her? It certainly wouldn't surprise her. She was used to it. What was one more insult?

Scrambling his eggs enthusiastically, Jason turned to look at her. "Nothing. It's just that every other sentence I've gotten out of you has either been an insult or three words long. I ask you about suits, and suddenly you're babbling." He smiled, laughter on his voice, "It's nice to see you in a more agreeable mood, you know?"

Daro hadn't been expecting that. She felt her cheeks reddening under her mask. He actually liked talking to her? That was… she didn't know what that was.

"I…" She could feel herself stumbling.

Dray just smiled, "Don't worry about it, you're not good at that sort of thing, it's cool."

Xen's mouth dropped. He actually listened too? Definitely something she wasn't used to.

"So… how do quarians eat anyway? Do you want me to make you breakfast, or what?" Jason was trying to be courteous.

Daro sighed under her helmet, but smiled happily none the less; the first time in months. "That won't be necessary. Quarians can't eat levo-amino acid based food. Even if we could, our immune systems prevent…"

Daro and her newfound companion spent the rest of the day talking about everything ranging from quarian immunology and life on the flotilla, to what she was doing on pilgrimage. While her unkempt human host had a boisterous attitude, he was also a good listener, something Xen hadn't had since leaving the fleet. It hadn't helped that her life had gotten considerably more complicated since leaving, and she was lacking in a way to properly vent. It felt wonderful having someone who just let her talk. She hadn't even realized how much weight she was carrying around on her shoulders until later that evening, when she finally realized she had talked the day away.

"I appreciate your hospitality," she said, getting up from the small couch, clamping her assault rifle back into it's proper place. "But, I should be leaving. The shelter will be closing soon. I'm sure my co-workers will have had ample time to get over last night's events. If not, I can handle myself."

It surprised her when Jason looked taken aback. "The shelter? You want to go back? You're welcome to stay here you know." He looked around the ramshackle apartment. "I know it's not much, but if you want to crash here, that's totally cool with me."

Daro was again surprised. He was offering her his home? He was willing to share with her? He was an odd human indeed.

"What about other people? Are you not concerned what others will think of you for harboring a quarian? Miners look down on us like the plague." Daro sighed. It was true.

Dray was silent for a few minutes, sitting on the couch with this hands laced together in a prayer like posture, seemingly considering something. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small back filled with a reddish-orange substance. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.

Daro's eyes narrowed, studying the powder-like material. After a moment, she shook her head.

Jason sighed. "Red sand."

Daro folded her arms and tilted her head. "That's illegal, even out here. It's also highly addictive." Her voice was condescending. She got the impression it was a speech he had heard more than once.

"Yeah… I know." He slid the small bag back into his pocket. He looked up into veiled eyes. "It's not something I'm proud of. I started using when I was a teenager, right after my parents died. I've tried quitting. I can't." Jason buried his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes. Daro felt a sudden pang of pity. He wasn't so different from her. People around here probably weren't fond of their resident junkie. She had never been a fan of substance abuse, of course, it was a very rare thing where she was from. They didn't have the resources for that kind of thing. He was alone, like she was. Suddenly it clicked into place. That's why he wanted her to come back with him. He just wanted some company, even if it was in the form of an anti-social quarian. He looked back up at her. "It's alright if you want to leave. I understand. I'm not the best person to be hanging around anyway." He finally cracked his trademark smile. "I'm glad we met, at least. You're an interesting gal, Daro." They stared at each other for the longest time.

Finally, Xen worked up the courage to speak first. "I'll stay another night."

Dray's face nearly split in half with his smile. "You're sure?"

Daro sat down beside him, resting her elbows on her thighs. "What you do is your business. I don't really care. I'm not going to judge you." She smiled under her visor. "Make fun of you, definitely. Not judge you."

Jason was beaming. "You're weird, Dee." Xen crossed her arms playfully.

"I like that."

"My name is Daro," she mock-scolded.

He tilted his head, still smiling at her. "You're seriously going to have to write the full thing down some time."


	4. Masks

It was easy to lose track of time on Pilgrimage. Growing up on ships that had no day or night hadn't done much for the quarian sense of time. Hours could roll into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months. Had someone cared enough to ask her how long she had been sleeping on Jason Dray's couch, Daro'Xen nar Khalos may have been inclined to say that it had only been a week or two. It likely would have surprised her to uncover that it had actually been closer to two months.

Daro was not a fool. She had never been a trusting person, and that certainly had not changed. Months of loneliness, a job working her into the ground, and the recent loss of her family had taken a toll on her. The fact of the matter was, even being a social outcast her whole life, Daro still needed somebody to talk to. It amused her to no end that the only person in her travels who didn't look down on her like batarian refuse was a lonely, dusted-up hedonist.

"Always in the last place you look, like omni-tools," her mother had told her growing up, referring to manners and kind hearts in general. It was certainly true in this instance. If nothing else, at least Dray's home was considerably less hostile than the turian shelter or one of the colony's darker alley ways. Originally, Daro had been thoroughly unimpressed with Jason's antics, his devil may care attitude and incessant grinning wearing on her nerves. Over time, she had grown to appreciate them. He was so unlike the quarians she had spent her youth being shunned by. He was open with her. He walked through the world like he didn't care about anything, letting nothing bring him down. He listened to her when she talked, letting her vent her frustrations away, of which she had many. He kept her company and didn't think she was just a suit with a voice box, or at least he didn't treat her like she was one.

Daro hacked into the rock with her pick-ax, slicing apart the platinum from the basaltic crust. It was almost time for her shift to end; another long shift with no overtime. That was fine with her; life was hard work, and if she didn't die from it, it only made her stronger. Strength was something she could turn into a resource and use. It was valuable. Her muscles ached, but it didn't slow her down.

Daro turned her thoughts to "home". It was as alien a notion to her as the feel of rain on Caleston was to it's inhabitants. Home had always been the fleet. It felt strange when she considered the old couch and run down storefront as something more than a shelter for the night. If nothing else, she had found refuge there, from more than just the violent wind and howling storms. It wasn't much, but it was more than she was used to having. Strange that when she thought about what kept her going through these arduous days, she only thought about returning to the place she called home and that smirk she had grown accustomed to seeing. He was always so quick to laughter and jest. Where once her mind used to be filled with memories of childhood, Daro's mind now focused only on making it to the end of the day. Jason was kind enough to her, letting her babble incessantly when the mood struck her, never complaining about her nearly relentless snark. It was more than what she had received from most she had met throughout life. He was good company.

At least when he had his sand.

Daro sighed as she hefted the pick-ax over her shoulder, allowing her to catch her breath. She couldn't understand his addiction. She knew it simply wasn't part of her perception. She had never taken drugs, at least, not for recreation. True, she understood the medicine behind it, the euphoric affect red sand has on the mind and the withdrawal induced by the chemical's absence, but she could never understand how it truly felt to have it weighing on your life. Part of her did not like the fact that Jason relied on the drugs to keep himself level. Another part told her that it was none of her business, scolding her for prying into his life. What other people did in their spare time was their business, and as far as Daro was concerned, she was content to keep it that way. Still, she worried about him.

That bothered her. Caring was not something Daro was good at, it just wasn't in her programming. The fact that she had taken so well to an alien had unnerved her. She was always wary of some sort of betrayal. A trick, a trap waiting to be sprung. Yet, there was nothing. Ever night she went to bed, and every night she woke up, unharmed, to a grin and a pair of ears that took in everything she had to say. She couldn't really fathom it. Keeping her around to talk with, sure, but he didn't always talk that much, instead spending more time asking questions about her. Daro had told him everything he wanted to know, but it never seemed to satiate him. She couldn't blame him for his curiosity.

One night, he had asked her about quarian masks, and about the stigma behind hiding their faces. He had been curious as to what she looked like beneath her helmet.

"What do you look like under there Dee?" A simple question, for which she had a simple answer.

"I don't know."

That had resulted in an awkward silence. The subject was a sensitive one among quarians. Possibly the worst inquiry one could make was asking about a quarian's face. The average quarian wasn't out of their suit long enough to really become familiar with their own looks. It was part of the reason their masks were polarized. Decades of insecurity had lead to a society that valued hiding and privacy. Keeping one's face to themselves and their closest family or intimates was sacred. Their own face was one of the only things a quarian was allowed to keep for themselves. Daro had only even shown her parents hers, and those times were rare. They were always busy, rarely being able to take the sick leave. The memories of when they did however, had always been enough to bring some warmth to her heart.

Bringing down her pick-ax in a thundering flurry, Daro's mind drifted from her body. She enjoyed menial work, regardless of how back-breaking. It let her mind drift, it let her think. Jason Dray. He was all she could think about. It was disconcerting to say the least. Every instinct told her it was wrong. She was on pilgrimage. He was tricking her. He was using her for something, he had some kind of plan and was waiting to carry it out. Daro just couldn't wrap her head around why he was so accepting of her. She was having an even more difficult time accepting the fact that she actually enjoyed it. She enjoyed his company as much as he seemed to enjoy hers. The only person who had ever even tolerated her outside of her own cubicle was Shen. The entire notion of anyone else being so open was utterly foreign, even more so considering he didn't seem to want anything other than her company.

Daro felt a frown tug at her lips as she thought of the other day. Jason had paid her a surprise visit at her job last week. He had simply strolled in as though there wasn't a single problem with him intruding on private property. A handful of her co-workers attempted to hassle him for lounging around in their place of work, until they had realized he was the same man they had run into at the club. They hadn't bothered her for the rest of the day. Even the foreman hadn't said anything, not that he had said much of anything at all for the past few months. After their brief "encounter", he had barely spoken a word to Daro. She was glad for that much at least.

Jason's arrival had been a bittersweet visit, as it turned out. Jason had been laid-off from the Aratech Mining Corps. Caleston's economy had been plummeting since before Daro arrived, recent attacks by the recently rogue batarian government, or at least, their puppets, putting colonial development to a standstill, leaving less demand for raw minerals. Less demand meant suppliers couldn't afford to keep as many names on their payroll, and Dray's reputation as a heavy duster hadn't done much to help him keeping his name from dropping off Aratech's roster.

Jason had acted like it didn't bother him, but Daro could see it was taking it's toll. He had no income to keep his habit alive, and his weathered face was now plagued with even darker circles and a pale pallor. He had become irritable, tense. Sometimes she would come home and he would just be fidgeting on the couch, sweating in the sweltering heat and not even bothering to speak, anxious and paranoid. She had come home the other night to see her human host shivering and shaking in his chair, in the throes of a fitful sleep. Daro had unclasped her mother's shawl, using it to keep him warm. As she lay the dark, dirt encrusted cloth down on his twitching form, he had grasped her hand, holding it tightly. Daro rubbed the back of her hand absently at the memory. She remembered freezing in place at the touch, despite it being through a layer of anti-ballistic mesh. Jason had started to calm down after that, slinking into the chair and into quieter sleep. Daro let him rest, choosing to sleep on the couch, as usual. It was the first time she had ever slept in the same room as another person aside from her family.

The familiar blaring siren sounded, signifying the end of her shift and the uncomfortable ride up the lift into the mine's entrance. Nobody said anything, instead shifting to one side of the small cubicle, giving Daro plenty of space. Being a quarian was not without it's minute moments of levity, stepping out onto the planet's desert surface, the hooded pilgrim looked up into a clear sky for the first time in days. Clear weather was a blessing on Caleston, allowing a rare glimpse at the skies without choking dust clouds. Daro made the long trek home with Jason on her mind every step of the way. She wanted to help him in any way she could, but she wasn't sure why or how. This wasn't something that happened on the Flotilla. Drugs and other narcotics were simply unavailable. He had taken her in when she needed help, and it pained her seeing him in such distress. She could always pay for his sand, but that would leave less money for food, as well as for her pilgrimage. It wouldn't solve the problem.

She was afraid for him. He was a good person at heart, or so she had come to believe. Certainly better than any other she had met on her journey. He had his flaws of course. She certainly couldn't claim perfection. What mattered is that he cared for her, even when he didn't have to. He made her feel welcome in a place that had done nothing but spit on her and treat her like dirt. Daro laughed at her own absurdity. She was starting to sound like one of the girls who swoons whenever the captain walks by. It wasn't like her to act or think this way. Twenty some odd years of loneliness was clearly catching up to her. She found herself thinking about him whenever she went through another arduous day of labor or endured another biting remark on her way to what passed as her home. She found her heart racing when she thought of that crooked smile and sharp tongue, ready with another lightning-quick quip or a reassuring word. True, he had always made it clear just how much he had appreciated her company and how he never had many people to talk to in his life. Not to mention he had always been incessant with his playful flirting. Daro had to wonder what he must have thought of her. She was quarian and he was human. These things only happened in stories, and even then, it rarely worked out well.

Daro let out a weary sigh as she caught sight of the run-down building that served as her makeshift home, trying to shake off her doubts and frustrations. It didn't matter if he cared for her or not, she was going to speak her mind. She couldn't sit idly by while the only person who had treated her with anything other than disgust and perversion allowed himself to be torn apart by his chemical poisons. Daro pulled the door to the side, seeing Jason lounging on the couch of the run down living room, his body language suggesting he was in one of his darker moods. Maybe now wasn't the best time to confront him. The door slid closed, sealing with a pneumatic hiss before she light out an audible sigh from her voice modulator, stretching her arms over her head as Jason turned his attention to her. His voice carried a tone of feigned interest.

"Hey. How was work?" his voice rasped out. It sounded like he hadn't spoken in weeks.

Daro felt the hollow pop of her elbow as she stretched, another weary sigh escaping her lips. "Abysmal, as usual. Did you eat?" It was a legitimate question. Jason hadn't been eating, his hunger reflex being completely subverted by his addictive habits. Jason gave a weak grunt that could hopefully be interpreted as positive as Daro joined him on the couch, already feeling her talkative side taking hold. "There are rumors floating about the mine saying that more jobs are going to be cut. Honestly, I grow tired of it. They have time to sit about like asari house wives and gossip, but not enough time to do their fair share of the work."

Jason turned his gaze to her, something approaching disdain in his eyes. "Then why don't you quit?"

A blunt and obvious question. Daro knew he was irritable, but she was never much of a people person. Had she been, she may have let the issue drop then and there. She didn't. "I have nowhere else to go. You know that. There wasn't a single place that would hire me before. Now things have only gotten wor-"

"Don't give me that shit. There's nothing keeping you here. Why the hell do you keep going to that dump? Do you like it there?"

Daro was shocked at his sudden burst of interruption. She knew it was the withdrawal. Still…

"What are you talking about? Like it? Why would I-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You walk in there with your skintight little get up, waving your ass around and act surprised when that scumbag tries to have at you with his stubby little fingers. You like the attention, don't you?"

Daro leaned away from him, wrapping her arms around her chest defensively. Any other time she would have left him to rot in this hovel he called a home, being sure to get the last word with a withering remark. It almost surprised her that she didn't.

"You don't mean that..."

Jason shot up from the couch, his argumentative grunts and rants turning to full-fledged shouts.

"Yes, I do! How do you think I feel? Huh? Did you ever think about how I might feel? You walk out of here wearing that... thing…and I-"

Daro stood up, her hands curling into fists, rage taking hold of her heart. He was treating her like everyone else she had met on Caleston.

"What did you say?" It was quiet and measured, but venomous, her words threatening hellfire and murder. It was enough to get his attention.

Jason stopped, his mind befuddled by the lack of chemical substance in his brain and stuttering. Even under layers of damaged thinking and murky thought processes, his words and their consequences were making themselves clear. "I... I didn't-"

Too little, too late. Daro screamed from beneath her helmet.

"What did you say? How you feel? I wear this so I won't die!" Daro was shaking with raw anger, visibly shaking Jason with fear and regret at his poor choice of words. "I can't feel anything! I never will! You have everything and you chose to squander it, wasting away in this slum." She gestured to the decaying walls that served as their abode. "You don't have the room to judge me."

She could see the shame and regret in Jason's eyes, but the damage was done.

"Dee... I'm sorry. I-"

Daro jabbed an accusatory finger at him, the silver glint of tears shining from beneath her mask.

"No. You don't get to call me that. Don't you dare. How can you judge me? You don't know anything about…" Daro's voice weakened, her words choking out through a cracked voice. "I thought you cared. I stayed here because I thought I had found someone who... who... could see me... not this damn suit... not the mask..." Gone was the militant scientist who could take down a battalion of the Hierarchy's finest. Here stood the same small girl who spent a childhood alone and friendless, watching as the one good thing she'd found in months burned at her.

Jason reached out, his hands brushing against Daro's shaking shoulders before she swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch me. Never touch me."

Daro turned, storming out of the place she had foolishly called her home. Tears poured down her face as she walked through the empty streets, her muted sobs her only companion in the darkness as she hung her head low. She watched her tears pool on the surface of her visor, hating the pale and polished surface more than anything. What sadistic twist of fate would deny a person even the ability to wipe away their own tears? It was beyond cruel. Everything her people had endured, everything she endured, it was meaningless. Nobody cared. Nobody cared that the geth slaughtered them and nearly drove them to extinction. Nobody cared that they were forced to scavenge and steal and beg just to live another day. Nobody cared that they were spat on and beaten. Nobody cared that they were trapped in rusting metal tombs that threatened to burst open, spilling out everyone they loved in a heartbeat. Daro shuddered at the memory of her parent's funeral.

Daro stopped as she gazed up at the stars through teary eyes and pale glass. The sands of Caleston stretched out before her in every direction, Syneu a faint shadow in the distance beyond the dunes and the rocky outcroppings. She hadn't even realized she had walked so far. The thousand stars of the night sky glittered with perfect light, as though inviting her to rejoin them in the heavens. She was alone. Her people were alone. They always would be. There would be no return home, as many prayed for. There would be no savior, as many searched for. There was only the infinite stars for them, orbs of fire in the sky. They'd consume her people one day, it was a well known fact that the fleet only had about another century of life left in it. Quarians were the best engineers in the galaxy, but even they weren't miracle workers. Here people would fade away into the darkness, and nobody would mourn their passing. Certainly, nobody would mourn hers.

Something moved to her left, Jason tripping on a rock before regaining his balance and walking over to her. Daro turned back to the stars, averting her gaze from his guilty eyes. His frown was uncharacteristic. It was so unlike him to be this way. Or was it? Was the man she knew really just a series of chemical reactions in the brain altering the actions of this human standing before her? His voice was weak, as though all his misguided rage had vanished and left him desolate.

"Daro... I'm sorry." Daro's eyes looked back up into the heavens, unable to even look at him. "I didn't mean what I said back there. I... I do understand." Her fists clenched. He didn't understand anything. "I might not know what it feels like... but... Damn, I'm such an idiot. I didn't mean any of it." Daro turned to meet his simpering gaze, her eyes narrowed behind the visor.

"Then why say it?"

Jason shook his head, anguish putting weight into his words.

"It's not me. It's the sand. It's been my life... I haven't been me since my parents died..." Pathetic. Her parents were gone too. Jason had his drugs and his clubs to keep him distracted and free from thinking about his misery. She only had the sweltering heat of the mines and the degenerative gaze of the people who looked down on her. "Daro, I need help…"

Daro slowly turned, the starlight catching in the polished surface of her visor.

Jason's hands reached to her hood, pulling it back to fully reveal her helmeted head. Unsure of what to do, she let him continue.

"I do see you under there, Daro. I see who you are… and I think you see me too, under all of the…" his voice caught in his throat, "sand." Dark eyes found her iridescent silver under the helmet. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot, I know… I just…" his voice trailed off, his stare burning into her heart.

Daro let her hands drift up to his face, her gloved fingers tracing along the contours of his lips before running through his short hair. She felt her heart race at the intimate gesture. Was this happening? This was so strange. This sort of thing only happened in stories. He cared for her. He wanted to be with her. She had found someone who saw through this mask and wanted her in the same way she wanted him. Everything was surreal, like she was back in recruit training and was experiencing the rush of her first live-fire practice. Colors blended together, time bent into something unrecognizable, and a feeling permeated her abdomen that threatened to cause her to double over.

"Jason... I want you to stop using." There it was. Plain and simple.

"Daro, I don't think… " His voice was cracking.

Daro brought a finger up to silence him, the fire in her gut giving her a sense of closeness she had never known before.

"Jason," she started, her voice whispering uncharacteristically, "I like you."

She said it. It felt like she was watching a bad romance vid. Everything felt detached, the stars, his weathered face in her armored hands. Daro didn't know where the words were coming from, she was barely aware she was speaking.

"I don't like seeing you like this," her voice was soft, a feeling in her throat as alien to her as the contours of the face she was so tenderly holding. "I want you to stop. I need you to stop. For me." It was an ultimatum. She needed to know if he really cared. This would prove it. This one thing would be enough to show her he was worth trusting, casting all doubts aside. If he could do this, maybe she had a future beyond blind service to the fleet, to a soulless mining corporation that worked her ragged. She'd finally have something for herself. It was selfish, but it was something she needed, more than she had ever cared to realize.

Jason's face was rigid, staring unblinkingly into her visor. When he finally spoke, his lips tugged into a small smile. Daro had missed it.

"I can try. If you'll help me."

Daro smiled behind her mask. "Definitely."

Jason's eyes looked to the side. "What about your people, Won't you have to go back?"

Silver eyes averted themselves to the desert sands, before finding dark orbs. "I'll complete my Pilgrimage once I have enough money saved up to afford something for the fleet." A wide grin wormed it's way across her veiled face, "…and at the rate that's going, I could be here for a very long time."

Daro pressed a finger up to his chest, her voice taking a serious tone.

"But you have to give up the sand. You need to quit, Jason. I'll be there to help you, but this is something you need to do." Her voice was soft again, "for us."

Jason breathed a heavy sigh, his eyes returning to hers.

"Alright. For you, I'll do it. I promise."

Daro's arms wrapped around his muscular frame, his strong arms returning the intimate gesture. His voice whispered into the audio enhancers of her helmet.

"C'mon, let's go home, my bed is getting cold."

Daro turned to his sly wink, a smug smirk crossing her face that was evident in her tone.

"Then perhaps you need a thicker blanket."


	5. Taken

Author's note: From this point forward, you are warned not to read if you are easily offended, or if you are uncomfortable with questionable or morally implicit themes.

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

A thin beam of sunlight leaked through the shutters in Jason's bedroom, stirring Daro from her sleep. The quarian silently cursed her regimented lifestyle. For once, she wished she could sleep in on the one day she had off. Years of a self-imposed schedule dictated how much sleep she was able to get a night. The sheets fell off of her suited body as she stretched, a soft yawn escaping her voice modulator. Arching her back, the vertebrae popped back into place with a soft snap. The bed to her side was vacant. Jason must already have awoken. Not that he had been sleeping very well lately. Daro sighed as she lounged on the weathered mattress, letting her body catch up with her mind. He had been trying to give up the drugs for nearly two weeks now, but the effects were starting to show. Nosebleeds, headaches, hallucinations, nightmares, fevers. Daro shuddered as she thought of one night when she had come home and found him curled up in the corner of the living room with blood pouring out of his nose and trembling from fever. It was only getting worse.

Climbing out of bed, Daro got to her feet, feeling the hollow pop of her ankles resettling as she walked downstairs to find Jason. Hopefully, he had managed to not hurt himself while she slept. He had on more than one occasion spent the night biting at his own flesh in an attempt to muffle his screaming, to bare against the pain. Making her way down to the haphazardly maintained steps, Daro saw him sitting on the couch, the orange glow of his omni-tool visible over his hunched and quivering shoulders. He jumped as her voice picked up.

"What's that?"

Jason turned to her, his weathered face dripping with sweat.

"Nothing. Just a message. Are there anymore painkillers?"

Daro walked over behind the couch, leaning over and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Jason, you know they won't help you. The pain will stop, eventually," she whispered reassuringly, the babbling scientist in her taking over. "You've been exposed to the sand for too long. Long-term exposures like yours develops pseudo-biotic nodules directly on your nerves. They feed on the drug, growing and spreading. Without the chemical compounds, they will decay and eventually die. You just need to... tough it out. I'm sor-"

"I don't care about your babbling, Daro! I need more painkillers!" Jason snapped. His voice was as shaky as the muscles that were contorting and twisting involuntarily against a seemingly endless wave of pain.

Daro sighed through her voice modulator, pulling open the door to meet the howling sandstorms of Caleston. She couldn't help but feel a sense of uselessness in the whole situation. She knew it was raw agony grating against his nerves that caused Jason to act so angry, and she didn't blame him for it. The fact that she couldn't help him, however, was driving her mad.

"I'll be back... Be careful, alright?" Daro's voice was quiet, trying to soothe the monstrous agony wracking her friend's body in any way possible.

Jason didn't respond, shivering and sweating on the couch as Daro sealed the door and started the long walk to the nearest pharmacy. No matter how many times she tried to explain his condition, all he ever wanted was more painkillers. It was almost like they were replacing the sand as his drug of choice. Daro pulled her shawl tighter around her body as a powerful gust sent sand scraping against the surface of her visor. He was barely at the halfway point in his recovery. Red sand had a long, brutal recovery process. Biotics relied on nodules in their nervous system to tap into their element zero reserves. Red sand developed microscopic nodules on a non-biotic's nerves, and as the user continued taking the drug, the nodules eventually grew to the size of an actual biotic's. Once a victim tried to quit the drug at that point, it was an extremely long, slow process, as the nodules decayed, taking part of the nerves they had grown from with them. Painkillers did nothing. It was the worst possible pain imaginable, with the victim experiencing nerve endings dying over the course of several weeks. Daro often wondered if she had asked for too much of Jason. Every day, it ate at her a little more, watching him screaming and whimpering like a crazed animal.

Daro shook her head in defiance. No, she couldn't think like that. He would get better and she would help him. Cool air rushed to meet her as she entered the pharmacy, searching the various racks for the most powerful analgesic she could find. The salarian at the counter paid her mercifully little mind as she handed him a credit chit. Daro had been digging into her savings to pay for Jason's painkillers. At this point, she didn't know when she would be able to leave Caleston. Part of her felt selfish for it. She was shirking her duty to her people to help this man. Part of her wasn't sure if she was ever actually going to return to the fleet at all. The bonds between the quarian people were strong, and Daro still felt them for her people, but it was hard to feel too broken up about leaving behind a life as an outcast, where nobody paid her much mind. She would eventually send something back to her people and earn her adult name, but she didn't intend to stay. Daro knew it wasn't likely to be a problem anyway, nobody would care much if she stayed or left. Shen, maybe, but he had his own life to lead now. Daro knew staying with Jason was both stupid and selfish, everything she had been raised and trained not to be, but what did she care? The lonely young woman had finally met someone who was willing to do anything for her. He was willing to endure so much for her, and that was something the fleet couldn't have. She was keeping her human for herself, the one thing she hadn't that wasn't anybody else's. She loved him.

The pure, crystalline logic of it was chilling. Daro knew herself too well to hide it away. Yet, strangely, she didn't feel ashamed. Part of her thought she should, to be so young and foolish, willing to throw her life away to help this man. Yet a much stronger part of her felt justified in her newfound romance. What had the Flotilla ever done for her? At least with him, she was welcome. She had a home, as meager as it was. Maybe when he was clean they could leave together, travel the stars until they found a new home for themselves. Some place beautiful. Maybe they could even save up and get their own ship, and just wander the stars together, two nomad lovers whose only home was with each other. Daro had never been a romantic, but something about the idea still managed to put a warm smile on her face. They were both better than this foul rock of a planet. Maybe they could even be together, some day. Daro had never put much purchase into the idea of sharing herself with someone, but she would be lying if she said the idea had not occurred to her. Now was not the time for that, though. Jason still had a long recovery ahead of him, and she still had a lot to do before they could get to that stage.

Daro had hardly realized she was walking by the time she had reached home, her mind absorbed in fantasy and wishful thinking. Sliding the door to the side and sealing it tightly, Jason weakly stood up from the couch. Daro rushed over to stop him from falling, his limbs hardly strong enough to carry his own weight, shaking visibly from the strain.

"Hey, enough of that. Stay here. I'll get you something to eat," she cooed quietly, taking care to be as tender as possible with him.

Jason's voice was weak as he grabbed her wrist.

"The pain... Please..." His eyes were moist. He had likely been sobbing again. Daro felt her heart twist into a knot at the thought. Her other hand went to his, her three fingers caressing his hand gently, trying her best to show that she was here for him.

"You need to eat something first, alright? Just... give me a few minutes."

Daro made her way over to the ramshackle kitchen, turning on the burners as she pulled a random can from the tacked-on shelves. She wasn't exactly familiar with levo-protein foods, but she learned quickly, a skill that had helped her numerous times throughout her life. It wasn't the first time she had to cook for Jason. His condition rarely allowed for him to do very much on his own. Daro let herself get lost in the memory of the first time she had attempted to cook for Jason. Apparently, humans couldn't digest sodium hypochlorite.

Daro carried the hot bowl of soup over to Jason, snuggling up to him on the couch. Taking the spoon in her hand, she gently began feeding it to him, the occasional small amount dribbling from his mouth as she tilted his head back to help him swallow. Making sure he was going to be able to keep his meal down this time, Daro set the bowl on the floor and took his hand as she gingerly helped him to his feet and up the stairs to his bed. He groaned as he was delicately laid out on the rough mattress, Daro taking the painkillers out and quickly moving her hand away before he tried to snatch them.

"No. Not after last time," she quietly admonished.

Jason sighed as he shifted uncomfortably in the bed. He had tried downing nearly the entire bottle one night. Daro wouldn't let him take it himself after that. Handing three of the pills to Jason, he swallowed them eagerly as Daro returned downstairs to hide the painkillers from Jason. She knew he would end up killing himself if it meant stopping the pain. Decaying flesh tied directly into your nervous system. She didn't want to think about it. She quietly cursed whoever discovered red sand under her breath as she slid the pain killers behind a loose brick underneath the floorboards.

Daro made her way upstairs into the bedroom they had shared together the past few weeks, finding him tossing and turning as he writhed between the sweat-soaked sheet. Soft, agonizing whimpers and painful moans drifted from his lips as Daro slowly climbed onto the mattress alongside him, her thin arms wrapping around him as she held her petite form to his. More than anything else in the world, she wished she could help him, that she could do more. She didn't care if she was selfish or irresponsible by choosing to stay. For once in her life, she belonged. It was a feeling she had thought lost after that lonely ceremony committing her parent's bodies to the silent void of space. She belonged alongside Jason. No matter what stood in her way, she would endure whatever squalls with him may come. Overcoming his addiction would be the trial that proved their devotion to each other. She wasn't going anywhere. Not when he needed her most.

Daro felt Jason shift around under the sheet, bringing his weathered face to her visor. Gone was that characteristic smirk she had thought of whenever she had faced the remarks of the throng of hateful miners she shared her workplace with, when she took the long walk through sand-blasted streets to the home they shared. In its place was a mournful expression she had never seen cross his face. Jason's words came out as a hoarse whisper.

"Dee... I'm sorry. For anything I've said or done or didn't do... I'm sorry. You're-"

Daro's finger swiftly came to his lips, silencing the human as she traced along the contours of the soft flesh there.

"Shh," she whispered delicately. "You don't need to apologize to me, Jason. I'm going to help you. I want to. I don't care what anyone says or thinks, I'm not going anywhere." Daro's mind drifted once more to thoughts of the Khalos. "A friend of mine said something to me a long time ago when I asked him why he defended me when no one else would. He said that to be truly good is to do good by others even when it is inconvenient to you. That's what it means to be a quarian. To do good by others."

"No... No, you don't understand. It's... You can't stay with me. You shouldn't. I'm... You're better than me. You deserve better." Jason's teeth were chattering, moisture running down his cheeks.

Daro's hand gliding along his cheek, her thumb idly drifting along his skin. She knew he wasn't in his right mind. Given his situation, she understood that taking anything he said seriously was folly. It wouldn't hurt to be reassuring though, surely.

"This isn't the life I imagined I would have when I left the Khalos to begin my Pilgrimage. But I wouldn't ask for anything else. You are... worth my distraction." Daro gave a small, warm smile under her visor. "Now, go back to sleep. I don't want to hear any more of this foolishness tomorrow, alright? We'll get through this, Jason. I promise."

Jason opened his mouth as though he meant to continue speaking before he turned away from her to lay on his side, attempting to force his dulled senses to sleep. Daro's arms slid along his body before she pulled herself up against him. Her eyes closed as she let herself be carried back into her dreams, imagining the new life she was sharing a bed with, knowing that in the end, it would all have been worth it, and they'd look back on this as nothing more than a bad dream.

Daro stirred from her sleep for the second time that day, her silver eyes looking out past the open shutters and seeing a star-filled sky. She had apparently slept the day away, something she was becoming more and more used to on her days off with Jason, as sleeping was the only time he ever had any respite from the suffering in his nerves. Feeling around Daro was immediately aware that Jason was not by her side, finding a small slip of paper on the pillow by her helmeted head. The scrawl was barely legible. It's took several scans from Daro's visor to properly decipher and translate the text.

"Meet me out by the dunes. We need to talk."

Daro tore the sheets off of her in a rush as she bolted down the stairs and out the door, pulling it to the side and running out into the cool night air. Daro's mind was racing. Sometimes, he really was a idiot. Why would he leave the house without her? In his condition, it was beyond reckless. At least he had the presence of mind in his chemical-addled brain to tell her where he'd gone. They had gone to that same place where they had made their pact many times before, but only when the skies were clear. They would sit and lay together for hours watching the stars, talking about anything and everything, about the life they were going to build for themselves one day. It was as serene and peaceful a place as any on this volcanic rock, and it always seemed to bring Jason some small level of comfort.

Daro trudged through the volcanic ash and sand of Syneu's outskirts, her mind ablaze as she pondered what he wanted to speak to her all the way out here about. No doubt it had something to do with their conversation earlier that day. She didn't understand it. She wouldn't have stayed as long as she has if she didn't care about him. What was there to discuss? Humans were so confusing at times. At least she knew that after this, they both could return home and put whatever doubts he was having behind them.

Daro walked past a rocky outcropping that served as a landmark for their meeting place, finding Jason staring at the stars with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, beads of sweat clear on his forehead in the starlight. He turned as Daro approached, his expression unreadable as his hands left his pockets.

"What are you doing out here? You shouldn't be out on your own. Come with me. We can talk when we get home." Daro reached for his hand before he pulled it away, tears welling up in his eyes. Daro stepped closer, her voice taking a tender tone.

"Jason... What's wrong? Tell me." Something didn't feel right. What was wrong with him?

Tears slid down his weathered cheeks as Jason shook his head, his voice coming out as a choking sob.

"I'm sorry."

Rough hands gripped Daro's shoulders, her visor immediately turning to meet the sneering human behind her. On pure instinct, a balled fist came downwards, directly into the human's pelvis before Daro brought her arm back up, breaking the human's nose in a spurt of blood with her elbow. Another human and a turian appeared from whatever hiding place they had found in the dunes and approached her, the turian taking a wild swing at her before she threw a quick jab at his throat, moving fluidly around him. The human came from her right, throwing another haphazard punch that the quarian easily dodged before she took hold of his wrist and snapped his elbow with a powerful blow. Daro didn't expend any energy, instead turning theirs against them in the instinctual methods drilled into her brain through years of combat training.

Her two would-be assailants were left with their wounds in the dust as six more shadowed figures stepped out from hiding. Daro went for her knife only to discover that she had left it behind. A panicked realization struck her. She reached for her assault rifle, only to find it was also absent. A chill made it's way down Daro's spine. She didn't have her weapons. How could she have made such a careless mistake? The assailants moved closer as they circled her, Daro shouting for Jason over them.

"Jason! Help me!"

Jason backed away, tears flowing freely as he stood by. Powerful arms wrapped around her midsection, attempting to restrain her before Daro aimed another elbow right above the man's eye. Spinning in a graceful flourish of pure, economic technique, Daro gripped his head as she brought a curved knee up into his face while forcing his skull downwards, the trauma of the impact letting out a sickening crack. Daro turned to Jason, desperation evident in her tone.

"Jason! Please! Help me!" Daro couldn't figure out why he was just standing there.

Jason averted his eyes, his eyelids shut tight as more tears squeezed forth. Talons came from beneath her arms, digging into her shoulders as the turian restrained her. Daro smashed the back of her helmet against the turian's plated face, releasing her as his hands went to his bleeding nose. One hand deftly grips at the turian's mandible, the other moving with a swift and precise strike severing the mandible in a fountain of blood, the turian's weakest point used against him. He crashed into the ground with an ear-splitting scream.

A shadow moved in Daro's peripheral sight, the quarian failing to move fast enough to dodge a heavy impact against her visor. The durable glass cracked as the force of the impact made contact with her face, a hot gush of blood spilling onto the opaque surface as her nose broke. Daro was caught off-balance as a powerful blow aimed for her stomach forced the wind out of her lungs, collapsing into the sand.

A flurry of punches and kicks greeted her, her assailants ganging up on her as they beat her mercilessly. They laughed and cheered, enjoying every violent second of her abuse. Daro screamed, crying for Jason to help her. For anyone to help her. A sickening chuckle was heard as one of the thugs pulled Daro to her feet, twisting her arms behind her back. An overweight human applauded at the sight before him, his dry and cracked skin twisted in a smug smirk. Daro's heart stopped, an icy chill running through her body at the sight of him. She knew him.

The foreman produced a large, taped up bag, a red substance visible under the clear plastic, tossing it to Jason as he chuckled.

"You did good, kid. The bitch is a fighter. Nice to know we're back in business."

Daro's eyes widened as it all suddenly came into focus. The message from earlier. The trip to the pharmacy. It was all to get her out of the house. To set this ambush up. The taste of her own blood filled her mouth as her voice came out in a weak rasp.

"Jason... Please... Don't d-"

One of the thugs punched her square in the gut, silencing her as the foreman let loose another gleeful chuckle. The obese human stretched out his pudgy fingers to her visor, pulling her closer to his cracked and mottled face. Had she been able to spit out the blood in her mouth, Daro would have aimed for his eyes. She swallowed hard.

"You're going to wish you had begged on your knees. Stupid alien."

Daro's eyes narrowed in an icy glare over the smear of blood on her visor, bringing her foot right between the foreman's legs in a powerful kick. The obese foreman collapsed to his knees as another thug delivered a blow to her gut. The foreman slowly got to his feet, pushing away the helping hand of one of his gang. He gestured behind her before a malicious smile crept across his lips.

"I only wish I could be there to see all the things they'll do to you."

Daro felt something sharp puncture her suit and sink into her skin. A needle. It took mere moments before the drug took effect, the edges of her vision turning blurry. Daro watched through a haze as Jason tore open the bag, taking whole handfuls of red sand and inhaling it, choking on the substance as he sucked up as much as he could. Daro's voice was weak as darkness enveloped her.

"Jason… why?" Everything was getting dark. Jason slouched and fell to his knees, inhaling so much of the drug that he had nearly forgotten he needed to breath air. Daro's eyelids got heavier, the drug overcoming her waning willpower.

"I... love..."

Everything went dark. Daro had no perception of time or space. There was only an infinite and impenetrable darkness that seemed to last forever.

Slowly, Daro became aware of a pulsing pain in her body. Pain was good. It was useful. It let her know she was still alive. Daro's silver eyes slowly blinked open, meeting a red smear of dried blood against her pale visor, a network of cracks running across the surface. Harsh orange light spilled into the dark cell she had found herself in, chains hanging from the metal walls and ceiling. Strength returning to her limbs, Daro attempted to stand, a sudden tug forcing her into a sitting position. Her hand went to her neck to find a collar and short length of chain fastening her to the wall. Daro's eyes widened as she observed her suited form. Her armor. Her cloth. Everything was gone. They had left the bare minimum of her suit for her. Tears weld up in her eyes. Her parents... Everything she had of them, gone. Her father's rifle and knife, her mother's shawl and ornamental armor, upgraded and passed down through the generations since before the flight from the home world. Daro slammed a fist into the wall in rage.

Quickly recovering, the frightened quarian brushed the anger from her mind, her training taking over, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was aboard a ship, feeling the artificial gravity and hearing the low hum of the engines. Judging by her surroundings, it was likely a Batarian Indentured Service Trading vessel, she had seen ones of similar make in the flotilla. The quarians occasionally had to fight the batarians off, taking any captured vessels for their own in an ironic twist of fate. Daro knew this particular ship wasn't crewed by any quarian. The foreman had her sold.

Jason had her sold.

Daro did not believe there was a word for what she felt. The man she loved, the man she was willing to share her life with, the man she was willing to forsake her people to be with, sold her for his own addiction. Daro felt utterly dumbstruck. Where had she gone wrong?

Her shoulders sank, her arms falling to her sides as she collapsed against the cold metal wall, tears pouring forth freely from her silver eyes. Being degraded and groped at work she could handle. Being left to rot on a desert hell hole she could tolerate. She even managed it despite backbreaking work that left her barely enough time to eat and sleep. But this? Everything she had was taken from her in one cruel twist of fate yet again. Everything she had done for him, everything she had sacrificed, it meant nothing. A thing was more important to him than her. More important than their love. Daro knew the pain must have been extraordinary, but she had done everything she could, what more could be have asked of her? Small fingers curled themselves into shaking fists. She felt herself slip into blind rage, blindly lashing out against the walls and floor as best she could.

Daro cursed herself. She was such a fool, thinking she could ever be accepted by anyone, least of all an alien. This was her reward for trust. For love. Her reward was only a short and painful life in chains. Proud defiance pressed those thoughts away. She would escape somehow. Daro followed the chain that was attached to the steel ring around her neck. At least being a quarian had afforded her some reprieve. The batarians wouldn't dare implant her, not with her immune system the way it was. They wouldn't want to waste their newest catch. Pressing her feet against the wall and pulling the length with all the strength her weary limbs could muster. The chain did not budge in the slightest, the quarian girl collapsing onto the floor of her cell. It was hopeless. Even if she managed to break free from her chains, how would she escape from a fully crewed starship? This was it. This was her future. A life in chains.

"Mother. Father. If you're out there… please… help."

Daro's words were met with silence. It was a foolish gesture. They couldn't hear her. They were long dead. She was alone. She had always been alone. That she had ever entertained a thought otherwise had been a mistake. A costly mistake.

Daro felt the kick of the engines as the ship came to a slower speed, likely docking in whatever foul destination the slavers favored. Daro heard armored footsteps echo down that hall before the locks on her cell door disengaged and opened, four batarians entering her cell carrying simple cudgels and assault rifles. One of the batarian produced a simple pair of shackles, forcing her arms behind her back before restraining them. Another removed the length of chain attached to her collar, the other two keeping their rifles trained on her as he replaced the chain with a longer length he carried. Resistance would be a deadly mistake. Daro knew better than to fight back in her current predicament.

The batarians dragged Daro to her feet, pulling her through the corridors of the slaving ship and out into the bustling streets of wherever it is she was. The crowds were thick with aliens of all races. Batarians mostly, but also turians, asari, krogan, even a few humans. Bright neon signs glowed at every street corner, towering structures stretched high into the darkness above in every direction. The slavers dragged her further through the crowd, the armed batarians keeping a tight guard on their latest prize. They eventually came to a building guarded by mercenaries, the slaver in the front of the pack displaying a card before the guards allowed the group through.

The chamber they entered was large and filled with people, each one of them carrying a data pad. The room was dominated by a stage of sorts, backed by a large screen displaying various names and numbers which was flanked by armed guards. Daro quickly surmised that it must have been an auction house of some kind. The slavers intended to sell her to the highest bidder. The group approached the stage before they were stopped by a volus who seemed to be arguing with the slaver at the head of the pack. Daro thought of using the unexpected intrusion as a chance to escape, but gave up such folly. If the slavers did not kill her, the guards would. She didn't have many options. Dying was certainly not one of them. She'd be free of this place, one way or another, and she'd find Jason and the foreman. There would be hell to pay for this betrayal.

After their short spat, the volus seemed satisfied, taking Daro's leash away from the batarian and leading her up onto the stage before approaching a podium and addressing the crowd on the newest sale. Daro didn't listen, feeling raw rage embrace her as she looked out into the crowd of her hungry potential buyers. She wanted to scream, to cry for aid that wouldn't come. She was alone. Forever alone, like the rest of her people. That was the only reason this was allowed to happen. She was quarian. Her life only had value when she was in pain, and then only when it was suffered for someone else. The lack of irony was ironic in and of itself.

Daro felt strong arms wrap round her waist, a krogan lifting her petit form on display for the crowd like a piece of meat, sneaking a grope in for good measure. Rage at the indignity burned in her lungs, thrashing against the guard, eliciting a wave of laughter from the crowd. They laughed at her shame, her humiliation, her pain. And why not? She was just a quarian. The value of her life was entirely up to them, literally. The krogan put her down, forcing her to her knees, holding her by the leash that was linked to her neck.

"A rare quarian specimen, fresh off the pilgrimage." The little volus squeaking into the lowered microphone. "Starting bid at twenty credits!"

Twenty credits? Was that all her indignation, her rage, her life were worth? Daro struggled to get back to her feet, anger fueling her into a blind fit. The krogan didn't waste any time forcing her back down, stomping the back of her knee into the ground, forcing her tender quarian kneecap into the solid pedestal. Daro gave a wild shriek as the mix of pain, fear, and hate came to the boiling surface. She had never felt the need to kill something so desperately in her entire life.

"A feisty specimen. Perfect for long shifts in the mines. Bidding will begin at fifty credits instead." Daro wanted to slice the suit canisters on the volus' back, to watch him explode from the inside out. She wanted to watch the krogan forcing her onto her knees like a varren waiting for its treat burn a slow, horrific death. Daro didn't know she was capable of hating anything so much in her entire life. She didn't even hear what the volus was saying. Disorientation, anger and confusion had nearly broken Daro's ability to think altogether. It felt like she was watching a bad vid, and any moment somebody would turn it off, and she could go back to her studies, or playing a vid game with Shen.

The krogan picked the struggling quarian up off the floor, the slavers pulling at her collar as Daro struggled to her feet. It seemed she had been bought, the batarian's all sharing a wide grin displaying their needle-like teeth. Daro didn't even know how much she had sold for. She didn't care. She was dragged back out into the streets, an asari waiting by a parked hover car wearing what looked like black asari commando armor. Handing her data pad to the batarians, the slaver passed her Daro's leash, pointing to the open door of the hover car. Daro once again thought to run, wondering if the batarians would fire into the crowd should she flee. One glance into their black eyes shook any doubt from her mind. Daro climbed into the luxurious interior as her asari buyer had a few brief words with the slavers, blue-skinned alien afterwards joining the quarian inside the vehicle, sitting in a formal and business-like fashion across from her. The turian chauffer closed the door, bathing the women in silence before he climbed into the driver's seat and drove them away from the bustling auction house.

The asari watched the sky lanes as Daro stared daggers at the thing that dared call itself her master. In that short instant, Daro had run through countless possible ways of killing her from her present position. As though sensing her thoughts, the asari turned her blue eyes to the young quarian, a nimbus of biotic light playing across her fingertips. Daro's eyes narrowed in a glare that promised a painful death. Her words spilled forth like venom.

"I don't know who y-"

The asari cut her off with a raised hand, her voice calm and cool.

"No speaking. I know quarians have a tendency to be... less than cooperative, but I assure you that things will be much easier for you if you learn to hold your tongue."

Daro sank back into her seat, her silver eyes not leaving the asari for an instant. Engaging a biotic in such close-quarters was not a wise decision. Daro would escape, somehow, but not now. She would bide her time. She was a proud daughter of the Fleet. She would not submit. Especially not to some dolled up asari fool.

The hover car slowly drifted to a halt, the turian chauffer opening the door to allow the asari to exit before pulling Daro from the vehicle, taking a tight grip on her leash. They had arrived in some filthy district deeper into the city, clearly on some sort of space station, her would-be masters pulling her through narrow corridors and down deep stairwells until they came to a guarded door that parted with a pneumatic hiss.

Deep, dark red light spilled forth as they walked through what appeared to be a repurposed series of apartments, stripped bare save for harsh metal and concrete. Daro saw women of all races kept in chains, shackled to walls or left to dangle from the ceilings. Asari, turians, salarians, humans, and more than a few quarians. Daro even spotted a drell, collapsed against the wall. Draped cloth covered empty doorways, faint moans and other lewd sounds audible over throbbing bass that came from an unknown source deeper in the complex

This place... No. No, it wasn't possible. Not this. Anything but this. The cool voice of the asari cut through the noise, her posture straight and belying authority.

"This is your new home. You will serve our clientele diligently or you will be punished appropriately. You might be entertaining naive thoughts of escape. Don't. You will not succeed."

The asari pulled back a draped cloth from an empty doorway, revealing a quarian girl standing against the wall, her skin bare, her hands hoisted above her head . Beads of sweat formed all along her body, heavy-lidded eyes meeting Daro's. The girl was muttering incoherently, delusional from the intense and deadly fever wracking her body. An arm weakly pulled at its restraints, only to find no give. It was obvious the girl barely enough strength to even move. Daro's eyes widened in pure terror. She couldn't look away, drinking in the abysmal hand of fate that she had been dealt. A whorehouse. That was her new life. The new beginning she had been granted by her human lover. This was the future he had built for her. In that moment, Daro felt all her hope slip away, taken away as she stared into the eyes of that dying girl.

"This is what happens to quarians who attempt to leave." The asari's voice held no mirth, despite the small smile that twisted its way across her violet lips.


	6. Toys

Daro's pleas fell on deaf ears as the turian dragged her by her leash down into the lower cells of the whorehouse, harsh crimson bulbs the only illumination as they made their way down. The sickening smirk was evident on his face, his face paint resembling the rigid grin of a skull. The rusted locking mechanism of the cell door opened with a piercing groan as he threw her onto the solid concrete, not bothering with the ragged and stained bed. His thin, serpent-like tongue flicked over his maw as his hands groped at her petite form. Daro, in a desperate fit of rage, thrust her helmeted head in a powerful blow against his plated face, too tired to attack him properly. He laughed as he straightened his back, quickly bringing his fist across her visor, breaking away at the cracked glass as Daro fell to the ground. The turian wasted no time ripping away at her tattered suit, the final wall she had left between her body and molestation. He got to work immediately, his claws raking over her body, whispering something lurid into her ear, the words lost in a foggy haze of rage and desperation, his breath bringing bile to the back of her throat. He explored every inch of her, the purpose in his hands clear. She was his property for the evening. She was just a slab of meat to him, hardly constituting a person. It made her sick, a proud daughter of the Migrant Fleet forced to play out the deluded fantasies of the depraved underworld. How could this have happened to her? How had she let it come to this?

Minutes felt like hours. Daro's mind was numb, every desperate bout of resistance met with brutal and overwhelming force. Bruises dominated what felt like every inch of her skin before the turian dragged her to her feet, content with breaking in the brothel's newest prize. Daro didn't even know what to think. She had never shared herself with anyone, and the one person she'd even considered had tossed her aside like common trash. Daro felt her blood simmering with fiery hate at everything she had just lost, at what her foolishness had cost her.

The turian wasted no time in stabbing a needle into the vein of her arm. Antibiotics. It was too merciful to ask for death. Daro didn't get a good look at the vial, but judging from the intense burning that resulted at the tract site, it was potent chemical. Probably a scorched earth immuno-booster. It'd make her immune system strong enough to survive like any other species, but would eventually burn her out until the drug itself poisoned her. She'd live long enough for the brothel to make a profit. That's all that mattered to them. Feeling too drained to even lift herself from the floor, Daro watched with broken detachment as the turian picked up pieces of a new suit, forcibly shoving Daro's limbs into them and delivering a quick blow or smack when she made any vain attempts at resistance. It was tighter than necessary, hearing the material creak and stretch whenever she moved her limbs. Excessive straps decorated her form, crisscrossing across her body in order to exaggerate her assets, belt buckles and straps leaving room for any who desired her to pull and toy with her body. Thin, transparent cloth wrapped around her, a mockery of her people's culture, the turian securing each strip perfectly, sneaking gropes in whenever he felt the need. The visor came last, a number painted across the opaque glass. A price tag. The turian cackled as he observed her quivering form. Daro pulled at the uncomfortable material, receiving little give. Everything was too tight. Looking down, she felt nothing but pure disgust at how her people's culture and biology was being used to so cruelly degrade and humiliate her.

"There we go. Nice and pretty."

Daro wanted to scream. She wanted to tear off his fringe and fillet him with it, to watch his guts spill onto the floor as he begged and cried for mercy. Daro lunged at the turian in a blind fit, clawing for whatever purchase her hands could find. There was no method behind her attack, no training or even thought. The turian grappled with her, twisting her arms at an unnatural angle, forcing her to her knees in a painful shriek. His thin tongue slithered to her visor, the organ leaving a trail of saliva along the polished glass. Daro felt her stomach twist into knots in revulsion.

"Feisty. I like that."

Daro thrashed against her twisted limbs as the turian dragged her from the pit he had violated her in, hearing the jeering remarks of the other guards and seeing the knowing mournful looks she received from the other women. All of Daro's training and skill were wasted in a situation where she was both enraged and without leverage. It only served to infuriate her further. Another cell door slid open with a rusted groan, the turian delivering a knee to Daro's gut before tossing her to the floor, chuckling as she curled her arms around her body.

"Stupid bucket barely put up a fight..."

Another voice picked up from inside the dark cell, feminine and defiant, with a strangely familiar distortion to it.

"Take a few steps closer and I'll show you a fight."

The turian remained rooted to the spot, his black eyes threatening pain as his talons curled into fists. Daro heard creaking and stretching material and the rattle of chains as the woman made her way to her feet.

"Go on. Do it. I dare you," said the new voice, venom dripping from the quiet tone.

The air was electric for a brief moment, the space between the turian and the unseen woman burning with the promise of violence. The skull-faced avian twisted his angular mandibles into a sick smile, finally unclenching his fist.

"Always with the mouth, huh? Double shift for you tonight, quarian. You'll get to use that mouth all night long."

The turian scoffed and exited the cell, locking the aged mechanism behind him. Daro sat huddled in the darkness, feeling warm water finally welling up in her eyes, broken sobbing emanating from her mask as her body trembled at the lingering memory of what just happened. She could still feel him, his claws dragging across her flesh and his tongue darting to taste her skin. Daro wrapped her arms tighter around her body, shutting her eyes and trying to wish it all away. This couldn't be happening. Soon, she'd wake up to her mother's soothing voice, Shen waiting outside their cubicle for them to play together.

Daro's hands drifted along the clasps and buckles of her suit, the vile garment meant only to mark her as property, as a quarian whore worth only the price stamped across her visor. Pulling at the strict material and the belts and cloths that adorned it, she found they were effectively built into or locked onto the suit, as was the suit itself. Her sobs turned to the occasional screech of rage, spitting fire and fury against her people's lot in life. Even the suits were used against them, gilded prisons designed only to hide the pain that was used and abused for the debased pleasure of this diseased and filthy galaxy. There were no words for her hatred towards such a cruel indignity. The philosophers of her people believed that the suits were the punishment for the hubris of the ancients. This was not punishment. This was torture. Every single atom of her existence wanted to scream, to watch everything burn and die, just to forget. In a hysterical fit of rage, Daro used every ounce of her remaining strength to pull at the offensive garments. Finding no give, she finally collapsed once more to the floor, exhausted.

There was no nepenthe in her rage. She could still see his black eyes when she closed her eyes, still feel talons digging into her skin, still relive every horrible second in perfect, crystalline clarity. Her tears pooled on the surface of her visor.

Feeling something brush against her, Daro heard a soothing voice whispering to her in the darkness.

"Hey... What's... What's your name...?"

Her name. She knew her name. It was the one thing they hadn't yet taken from her. Daro's voice barely came out through choking sobs.

"D-Daro... Daro'Xen... nar... nar Khalos..." She managed to choke out between sobs.

The voice from the darkness responded, the barest hint reassurance in her tone.

"Kyta'Jiil..."

Daro raised her head from her huddled form, meeting a visor the color of jade. The quarian girl sat on her knees by Daro's side, her arms bound behind her back in a perverse series of belts and straps designed into her suit to restrain her as best as possible, her ankles shackled together with primitive chains. Daro's eyes widened in shock, dumbstruck by the sadistic device Kyta was forced to wear. Kyta followed Daro's gaze, sighing through her voice modulator.

"They put me in this... thing. Keeps me from strangling every damn one of them. Forget it. Are you okay?" she said passively, seemingly unconcerned with what must have been unimaginable agony.

Daro ignored the question, seething at the sight before her.

"I... But... Your arms... They did this to you...?"

Kyta's silver eyes shut, sighing through her mask once more before opening them again.

"Yeah... I tried to kill one of my... my... one of them. A krogan. I tore his throat out and broke the arm of a guard before they finally got me off of him. They feed me nutrient paste through a tube... If they're feeling generous…" Kyta's voice started to trail of wistfully. "I've been wearing it for... I'm not even sure... months..."

Daro felt a sick feeling settle in her gut. Months of being unable to move her own arms? Even if they left right now, it would take months of physical therapy for Kyta to even be able to move her limbs of her own accord again, atrophy and poor circulation leaving them a malformed mess. The sadism behind it was beyond anything Daro could have ever dreamed of. Tilting her head as she examined the foul restraints, the bruised quarian gestured to Kyta. She couldn't leave her like this.

"Turn around."

Kyta visibly raised a brow beneath her visor.

"...Why?"

Daro moved behind the quarian girl, the translucent cloth drifting with her movements, her voice determined.

"I'm getting you out of this thing..."

Daro's trained hands moved deftly along the series of straps and buckles, finding them attached directly to Kyta's suit by a series of friction-based locks. Forcing them open wasn't possible. They were made of the same durable material as the suits, Daro shuddering at the thought of where they must have gotten the straps. Daro pulled experimentally at one of the strips of material, eliciting a sharp yelp from Kyta. They were wrapped so tightly around her arms, even jostling them twisted Kyta's arms further into unnatural angles. No doubt this was intentional, Daro's blood boiling at the thought. The restraints had turned Kyta into little more than a toy, left without even the freedom of movement, meant to live and die as a doll for whatever sick bastard could afford to play with it. They hadn't even left her a way to fight back. Daro shook her head as she backed away from Kyta, hopelessly crawling back into her corner.

"I'm sorry... There's nothing I can do..." Daro felt utterly useless.

Kyta shuffled on her knees, her chained ankles rattling against the stone floor as she turned back to face Daro.

"It's alright. I've tried nearly everything..."

Daro brought her knees to her chest, huddling in a dark corner of the cell. There was a strange comfort in having another quarian around, despite the horrid conditions of her presence. It had been too long since Daro had even seen another of her kind. She wished it was under better circumstances. Throbbing base pulsed from somewhere deep in the building, the lurid sounds of the debased acts within clearly audible even beyond the sealed door of the cell. Screams and groans of agony mixed with jeers and shrieks of ecstasy were in the air. Kyta seemed completely unfazed, Daro speaking in a desperate attempt to shut the noise out.

"What ship are you from...?"

Kyta seemed hesitant to speak, moving her head from side to side as though searching for an answer.

"I'm... I... Kyta'Jiil nar... Qwib-Qwib..."

She had heard of the Qwib-Qwib, a relatively recent acquisition of the Migrant Fleet. A volus vessel. Unfortunately, the multiple attempts made at changing the ship's registration information and name had been mired in bureaucratic proceedings. At this rate, many wondered if the ship would ever receive a proper quarian name. Kyta sighed once more, letting her bound shoulders slump slightly.

"Yeah, go ahead. Laugh it up. Everyone does."

Daro shook her head.

"I'm not laughing."

Kyta turned her head, raising a brow behind her mask, her tone laced with disbelief.

"Really? You're nar Khalos. As good of a ship as any."

"Well... Yes, that's true. The Khalos is a fine ship. I just... never really belonged there..."

Kyta shuffled closer to Daro, leaning against the wall to listen to her new quarian companion better.

"Why's that? I've never been aboard before..."

"Well... I was something of a... pariah." Daro felt the need to babble, a common defense mechanism amongst quarians. "I never got along with the other children... They used to tease me relentlessly. I didn't really have friends... I had my parents, of course... and Shen..."

Daro felt a shallow smile cross her lips for a brief moment before the tears welled up in her eyes again, her arms tightening around her body. She felt so stupid for even thinking about it, let alone talking about home after what had just happened to her. Shen. He had always stood up for her. She wished he was here. He wouldn't have let this happen to her. Daro bit back sobs as she felt Kyta nestle closer to her.

"Hey, it's okay... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Daro shook her head, watching the tears drip slowly onto the polished glass.

"No... It's not your fault... I just... I can't believe this..."

They shared the silence, Daro trying her hardest to shut out the noise that echoed in the cell. She turned to face the pale green visor at her side.

"How did you get here?"

Kyta shuffled to a sitting position, the silver almonds of her eyes vanishing under her eyelids.

"I was a dancer here on Omega. It didn't pay very well, but I figured I could turn a few credits into enough to get me off this rock. I tried to play the numbers at the casinos, quasar machines, skyllian five tables, you get the picture. It didn't work. The house always wins in places like this... Next thing I know, I'm getting jumped by a bunch of batarians outside my work and I wake up here..." She paused for a moment. "Managed to take two of them to the void before they got me…"

Daro felt a strange sense of satisfaction at the thought of Kyta overpowering her would-be captors, reminded of her own desperate fight against the foreman's thugs. She wished he could have taken a few of them with her.

"You must be skilled to have managed that."

Kyta let out a half-hearted laugh.

"Not skilled enough. Top of my class in close-quarters combat and they still got the upper hand... What about you? I don't mean to pry... I just..."

Daro was silent for what seemed like forever, unsure that she could even put the events into words. Finding some nerve still in her backbone, she blurted the tale out as coherently as she could, despite her trembling lips.

"I... I knew someone... A human... He was kind to me. He cared. I thought I was going to be alone the rest of my life and then he came... He was lonely, like me. He was an addict. I tried to help him quit... We were going to have a home together, away from the rest of the galaxy... Maybe even travel the starts together... Find somewhere we could both be happy... He... He had me sold... to pay for more drugs..."

Daro's words squeezed out under sobs, not needing to see Kyta's face to see the shock and horror there. The words just seemed to pour forth, like a breached filtration system on the Flotilla. Her chest heaved as her breath came in sharp inhales, trying to speak over her hyperventilating.

"I... I thought he loved me..."

The tight bindings of Kyta's suit creaked as she moved herself closer to Daro, holding her body up against hers as best she could without the use of her arms.

"Hey, listen... It's not your fault, okay?"

Daro shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. Comforting lies were still lies.

"Yes it is! I was stupid! I..."

Daro let her sobs consume her, feeling Kyta rest her head on her shoulder.

"Don't think about that... It's not going to help you in here..."

Daro's hands went to her visor, futilely attempting to wipe away at the tears, fingers clawing uselessly at her mask, her voice cracking.

"I know... I just... Keelah... I'm such an idiot..."

Kyta whispered into Daro's audio enhancers, a soft and soothing tone heavy with sympathy and caring.

"I'm so sorry..."

Daro clawed at her visor further, wanting to reach in and tear her own eyes out, wishing she could rip the glass surface off and breathe in all the dirt and filth that pervaded the air.

"I'm so foolish... All anyone has ever done is hurt me... I should have known... They don't care... Nobody cares... They only hurt..." Her words were barely coherent at this point.

Kyta's head left Daro's shoulder, diamonds glittering behind a screen of jade.

"I won't hurt you..."

Daro looked up into the quarian girl's eyes, meeting small, glistening orbs laced with concern and compassion, noticeable even behind her viridian mask. She felt her heartbeat rush at the sight, slowly leaning her body against Kyta's bound form. It was an unexpected comfort, to be able to share so much with someone else and not be shunned. In spite of the hell her "love" had brought her to, Daro felt safe with Kyta. The young quarian's presence was comforting, her ability to listen, a gift from the ancestors. Daro had always been a loner, but even she needed someone to vent to, to babble with. Now more than ever. It was only proper to return the favor. Daro blinked away her tears as she looked up into her eyes.

"You said you were from the Qwib-Qwib?"

Kyta blinked, averting her eyes awkwardly.

"Yeah... My father is a suit-crafter. My mother is a programmer. She taught me most of what I know. Not that it did me much good. 'Else I wouldn't be h-"

The cell door's rusted mechanisms screeched open, three armored guards entering the cell and approaching the huddled quarians. Two of them pulled Kyta to her feet, gripping her arm bindings and wrenching them, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from the girl. Daro got to her feet, rushing the guards in an attempt to free Kyta from their grasp, her mind working on pure, communal quarian instinct. The need to protect the group. One of them shoved her to the side, thrusting his entire body weight onto hers and slamming her into the wall before delivering a sledgehammer blow to her gut. The wind having been knocked out of her, Daro choked and sputtered, unable to breathe. The world went dark, her ears ringing with a shrill note as she collapsed to the ground.

Darkness, warm and enveloping, consumed her until there was nothing left. Part of her wished she could simply will herself to never wake up again, to resign to this void and never feel pain again. Somewhere in the darkness, her parents were waiting. She just had to find them. They were always on the edge, so close, a sound not quite heard, a movement not quite seen. She just had to look harder, and she'd find them, and this nightmare would end.

Cruelly, she was denied, feeling rushing back into her battered body all too soon.

Daro's eyes snapped open, feeling her head resting on Kyta's lap, the girl coughing and retching repeatedly. Daro attempted to move before a sharp pain in her gut stopped her, clenching her midsection with a painful groan. Kyta leaned down, her voice a raspy whisper.

"It's okay. Try not to move. They hit you pretty hard."

Daro's body felt unnaturally warm, sweat clinging to her sensitive skin beneath the suit. Daro shuffled to her side, turning to look up at Kyta with heavy-lidded eyes. Kyta retched again, the hoarseness of her voice clearly audible.

"You're running a fever. It was Kiron, wasn't it? The turian with the skull paint?"

Daro closed her eyes, seeing his painted face and feeling his talons on her skin once more at the mere thought of it. She didn't know if it was the beating, the fever, or the memory of her violation that made her stomach twist as she nodded meekly. Kyta's ragged voice was tinged with sour disgust and venomous hatred.

"He does that to all the new girls. Breaks them in. Tidanya lets him. She doesn't care. She's the asari who showed you in. She runs this whole place. I heard she's a matriarch's daughter or something..."

Daro shivered in Kyta's lap, feeling the fever wrack her body, a testament to the abuse she suffered. Her voice was weak, barely a murmur over the lurid debauchery echoing through the halls.

"We're going to die here..."

Kyta's voice was hard, firm, reminding Daro of her combat instructor back on board the Leriki, where she had received her combat training.

"Don't say that. Don't ever say that. We'll get out of here somehow, okay? They won't let us die. We're worth too much. Food, water, antibiotics. They want us alive."

A series of hacking coughs erupted from Kyta's voice modulator, her body heaving from the intensity. Daro felt tears roll down her cheeks as she watched Kyta suffer the effects of her abuse, abuse Daro had failed to prevent. Daro's arm weakly reached up to Kyta's visor, her finger gingerly brushing against the edges of her mask.

"Are you alright?"

Kyta cleared her throat, forcing back another series of retching coughs.

"I'll be fine... Rest. You'll need it..."

Daro wrapped her arms around her chest, drawing her legs closer to her body as she closed her eyes, trying to force away the vision of her attacker from her mind.

Kiron.

His name echoed in her skull, his leering face stalking the halls of her nightmares. As the nights rolled on, Daro had on more than one occasion awoken with a hysterical scream, horrified at the lingering memory that was seared into her mind. His face joined others, watching Jason whisper sweet lies into her ear before Kiron's talons dug into her flesh or the foreman forced her to her knees. She saw Shen, standing far out in the distant sands of Caleston, screaming for him to help her as her attackers beat her into the dirt over and over again. Night after night, the nightmares came, until Daro barely slept, each dream adding the faces and laughs of more of the brothel's customers to her torment. She never forgot their faces, her rage and anger driving her blind with fury. The guards had more than once needed to hold her down and restrain her, blood rage that could put a krogan to shame causing her to lash out uncontrollably.

The sleepless nights she was given to recover from her allergies gave her time to think, to listen. Daro watched the guards pass her cell, heard their names, memorized their faces. Kyta's words had stirred something in her. She would not die here. Neither of them would. The guards were two dozen strong, including Kiron, by her estimates. Turians, batarians, a few krogan, at least one human, and a salarian who gave them their daily immuno-boosters and antibiotics. She rarely saw the one Kyta had called Tidanya, the asari only ever making her presence known whenever one of the other girls had acted up and lost her a customer. Tidanya had a taste for dealing with the disobedient personally. Oddly enough, she hadn't spoken to Daro since the first night at the brothel. Strange, considering the quarian pilgrim's resistance. Still, it changed nothing in the end.

This was her life. Day after day, night after night. Forced into debased servitude for the sickening pleasure of any who could afford the price stamped across her visor. Sedatives kept her compliant, leaving her limbs with barely enough strength to fight back, the few outbursts she did manage draining her quickly. Some of them even enjoyed it when she resisted, laughing at her pain and humiliation. Had she the strength, she would have torn every single one of them to shreds and reveled in it, leaving her dreams of vengeance within her mind as her body suffered sickness after sickness, a feeling of constant rot and decay becoming her entire existence.

It was only the rare moments of peace in her cell with Kyta that Daro found any comfort in the foul pit that Jason had abandoned her to. Kyta was always there to offer words of comfort and a shoulder to cry on, in spite of her own pain and suffering. She was a true daughter of The Fleet, selfless, compassionate, and above all, proud. It was this pride that they shared in common, coming from different ships and different lives. Kinship had always been a rare commodity for Daro, but was something she found easily in her new cellmate.

Daro had tried time and time again to free Kyta from her bondage, every desperate effort left fruitless. The very sight of the arm bindings was an unbearable indignity that brought her blood to a fierce boil, rage at her own inability to help her friend leaving her furious. Kyta's arms were in constant agony, every attempt at freeing her ineffective, only causing her to suffer more. Daro had never felt so useless in her entire life. She simply didn't have the tools to get the belts off.

"I'm sorry. I've tried everything I can think of. I don't know how I can free you..."

Kyta shook her head, laying on her chest to avoid hurting her arms.

"It's alright, Daro. I don't blame you. I would be surprised if you coul-"

A slot in the cell door slid open, one of the guards tossing a white tube inside. Daro held the tube in her hand, reading the serial number for the tube of nutrient paste. She recognized it. The cheap kind. Barely any nutritional value. Just calories to keep them alive for one more day, until it became absolutely necessary for the next rare sample of paste that actually contained vitamins. Daro removed the cap on the processed paste, stopping her hand at her feeding tube before looking over at Kyta.

"Come here. You first," she whispered quietly.

Kyta shuffled to her knees as Daro came to her side, gingerly removing one of the feeding tubes of the girl's helmet, sliding it into the tube, creating a straw of sorts. Most nutrient past was designed to interface with dispensers built into their suits. However, they were forced to share a single tube, making the usual feeding method impractical. Kyta sucked at the impromptu straw, Daro feeling the change of weight in the tube before Kyta smacked her lips. Daro examined the tube, seeing that the majority of the nutrient paste was left behind before glaring up at Kyta.

"Come on. Eat. You need it more than I do."

"Daro, I'm fine. Really. I'll be-"

Daro interrupted by way of holding her hand up in a stopping gesture, her tone perhaps a little more confrontational than necessary.

"How many times did they starve you? I'm not going to let you starve any more just because of me. Eat."

Kyta sighed before continuing, Daro pushing the feeding tube down further for her. She had told Daro about how, when she first was placed in the arm restraints, the guards had to feed her themselves. At first, they only made her beg or serve them to get her food. After awhile, they got bored, instead letting her starve out of absentminded neglect. Daro had gladly helped Kyta, even though she had been too timid to ask at first.

Daro reattached the tube onto Kyta's helmet after she had finished, the cell door opening just as Daro's hand left Kyta's mask. She recognized the turian's leering, painted face, Kiron's mandibles twitching in an amused smirk at the sight of the two quarians huddled so closely together, seemingly unfamiliar with the fact that quarians had no real concept of personal space.

"Awww. How cute. Let's go, suit. You have a new playmate."

Kiron grabbed Kyta from behind, pulling her arm bindings until her arms nearly came loose from their sockets, laughing at the girl's pained screams. Daro sprang to her feet, every muscle in her body wanting nothing more than to peel off his plates on by one. A sharp hiss was heard as Kiron leveled a pistol at Daro, wrenching Kyta's arms until she fell to her knees in agony.

"Sorry, he only paid for the one suit. One more step and I pull her arms off."

Daro froze solid, her mind racing for a solution. Everything she came up with ended in disaster.

"I'll tell you what. I'll come back after the doll is done with her new friend and maybe I'll have some fun with both of you. You both seem rather close. We'll make it a party," he croaked out with a broken sneer.

Daro's eyes narrowed, chips of razor-sharp ice that bore into Kiron.

"I am going to kill you."

Her words were cold as glacial ice, not threatening, but promising. Kyta looked up at Daro, seeing the faint glint of water in her eyes as the turian pulled harder on her arms, laughing at Daro's words.

"With your immune system? I think it's safer to say I'm going to kill you instead," cold amusement echoed off the halls in the turian's flanging voice, ringing in Daro's ears. She felt something in her mind snap, a sound as loud as a gunshot that she never quite heard.

Daro screamed, lunging for Kiron who swung his pistol across her mask, knocking her to the ground. Daro tasted blood in her mouth as she looked up at Kyta's eyes, diamonds weeping behind a pane of viridian. Their eyes spoke to each other, apologizing and comforting before Kiron pulled Kyta to her feet and dragged her away, the cell door locking behind them.

Daro laid in the dark, staring at the cell door before slowly getting to her feet. The absence of Kyta was enough to drive Daro into a frenzy, knowing what was happening to her while she sat in their cell, helpless. Daro paced back and forth, her hands balled into fists, bringing them futilely against the walls in shouts of impotent rage. Her mind flooded with thousands of ways she wished she could kill Kiron, to watch his blood drain from his body at her feet. She would be free. They would both be free and the last thing that turian would see would be the cold eyes that sent him to the hell that waited for him. Hours ticked by, Daro's mind twisting itself into horrific contortions of revenge and torture. There would be penance for this atrocity, and despite the sadism that permeated Daro's mind, nothing she imagined seemed capable of satiating her desire to inflict pain on the monsters who kept her captive here.

The cell door screeched open, Kiron tossing Kyta onto the ground with a chuckle, watching the bound quarian girl squirm.

"Enjoy the rest of your night, ladies."

Daro rushed to Kyta's side as the cell door sealed shut, the quarian girl squirming and moaning as Daro tried to help her up.

"Kyta... Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" It was a rhetorical question.

Kyta's words were muffled, sobbing and panting as Daro tried to comfort her.

"What's wrong? Talk to me!"

Kyta let out a muffled scream, squirming and wriggling against her arm binders, forcing even more painful whimpers from her lips. Daro's arms wrapped around Kyta, feeling the flushed heat of her skin even through the skintight suit. Her hands traveled to Kyta's mask, trying to meet Kyta's eyes with her own.

"Kyta! Please, tell me what's wrong!"

Kyta's body quivered, sobbing and crying as she moaned out an unintelligible answer, curling her legs into a ball on the stone floor. Daro's hands were shaking, her mind racing as she examined Kyta's body. Her suit wasn't breached and she was clearly gagged. They had done that before...The binder and shackles prevented removal of her suit, forcing her to only use her mouth when taken by a client. They had to use a device that propped her mouth open, lest she bite the customers, and they had evidently resealed her suit with the device remaining in place. Still, something was clearly causing her further pain. Running her hands over the suit, Daro couldn't find any abnormalities, no breaches, nothing. Kyta continued to writhe, Daro doing her best not to cause her further distress.

After a moment, Daro began to make out a faint ticking noise beneath Kyta's agonized panting. Daro felt her stomach twist into a knot. Those bastards had installed nerve stimulators into their suits. Some customers enjoyed the sensations. In Kyta's case, the fact she couldn't take off her suit without removing her restraints meant she usually ended up with those clients. Daro watched, dumbfounded, as Kyta's body quivered, the poor girl sobbing, without control of her own body. Whether they had left the stimulators on out of simple absentmindedness or simply for the cruel joy of further hurting the poor girl, Daro didn't know. Horrified, she wrapped her arms around Kyta's shoulders to steady her, pulling her body up to hers, leaning against the wall of the cell as Kyta curled up in Daro's arms. Daro felt her heart break at every involuntary spasm. This was rape at the worst level, leaving her without even the ability to control her own body. Daro pulled Kyta around her just a little tighter, tears welling up in her eyes as she seethed. They would pay. They would all pay.

"It's alright, Kyta. I'm here. I won't hurt you..." Daro muttered nervously, mirroring Kyta's words to her on her first night in their shared prison. Daro had never been very good with being compassionate. Regardless, something in her felt the need to comfort her companion. Quarian instinct at it's most basic level.

Kyta lowered her head, hiding her streaming eyes from Daro in a shameful sob. Daro's fingers idly moved along Kyta's hunched shoulders, attempting to comfort the weeping girl. Her hands moved along Kyta's body, flinching at every unintentional moan her movements elicited from the girl, trying to find some way to shut down the nerve stimulators. Normally it required an omni-tool. Daro had none, and there were no manual controls in these suits. There was nothing Daro could do about it.

This was her fault. She could have stopped Kiron, saved Kyta, maybe even escaped, if only she'd been faster, stronger. Daro had been a fool to trust Jason. She had been an idiot, making every decision that basic training warned against before the Pilgrimage. She had brought this on herself. But Kyta didn't deserve this. She was a strong, proud, and compassionate girl. Everything a quarian should aspire to be. She deserved better.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

Kyta's legs curled tightly together, her back arching into a grotesque angle as she screamed wildly into her helmet at her frustration. Daro held the girl to her body, terrified to even touch her. This was all her fault. Daro felt tears well up into her eyes, a cold hopeless feeling settling in her gut. She could at least try and help her through the night. It was the very least she could do for her.

"Hey, look at me."

Kyta shook her head, mewling pathetically as another involuntary spasm sent her quivering in Daro's arms. Daro's hands sought out her visor, pulling Kyta's helmet up to meet the tear-filled stars of her eyes.

"Look at me. I'm here. Nothing else. Focus only on me. Look at me..." Daro spoke as confidently as she could. It wasn't much, but it was the best she could do.

Kyta nodded, biting back a moan as her body twitched against her own accord. Kyta squirmed in Daro's arms, the ticking sound of the nerve stimulators almost deafeningly loud within Daro's skull.

"Shh... It's okay. Look at me. Focus. Shut it out." Daro felt her hands shaking. This was all she could do. This young girl had been reduced to a quivering mess, incapable of feeding herself, barely capable of moving under her own power any more, enduring constant beatings and torture, and now this. A constant, ceaseless violation of her body, denied even the ability to beg for it to stop. Kyta had been reduced to little more than a living object of someone else's sadistic pleasure, and despite holding the girl in her arms, there was nothing Daro could do to stop it. She could do nothing but look into Kyta's visor, giving her something more to look at than empty concrete, letting her share her pain with her instead of having to suffer through it alone or with a client.

Kyta's eyes hardened, her breath coming through her gag in ragged pants, trying to shut out the device defiling her body. Daro held Kyta tightly in her arms, trying to keep her quivering form under control. They stared into each other's eyes for what felt like hours, Daro almost making out the contours of her face over time. The horrid ticking was unrelenting, even after Kyta's eyes had finally closed shut and she drifted into a fitful, twitchy sleep.

Daro didn't sleep that night, biting back sobs so as to not wake Kyta. The nauseating ticking continued ceaselessly, driving Daro mad, every tick like a dagger in her heart. Hours passed as Kyta slept fitfully in her arms, her silver eyes moving from the girl curled up in her arms and the cell door. They would come for her again. And again after that. The intense urge to defend Kyta took Daro by surprise. Quarians were, by nature, a communal people, but she had never felt such a bond with one of her kind. It felt natural. Primal. Daro needed to protect. To fight. Daro had always cared about her people, but she had never felt it to this magnitude. She couldn't let this go on. The thought of the shivering form in her arms enduring this horror for another moment caused Daro's blood to boil. She had to find a way to end it.

They couldn't stay here. Whether by their captors hands or the ravaging of disease and infection, they would die. Escape was the only option. Daro would leave and she would take Kyta with her no matter the cost. Daro felt Kyta stir from her sleep, still curled in Daro's tight embrace as she awoke. Daro's icy almonds met Kyta's glittering diamonds, the bound girl blinking away sleep under her jade mask, her eyes smiling in their own right up at Daro. Daro was shaken by the acceptance she saw in her eyes, feeling an overwhelming shame settle on her shoulders.

"Kyta... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I could have stopped him... I could have... And you… I…"

Daro trailed off as Kyta shook her head, her eyes speaking with tenderness and compassion as she nestled herself closer to Daro, curling her body and resting her twitching and spasmodic form comfortably with hers. Daro looked down at the girl held in her arms. Kyta was unable to speak or hold her back, instead accepting her with nothing more than a reassuring nuzzle as she continued to endure. Daro didn't know what to say. Kyta had lived with things no quarian should ever have had to suffer through, and after all of that, she was the one who still offered acceptance and support. Daro slowly rested her head on Kyta's as she rested against her, holding her closer, letting a single hand gently massage at the aching shoulders held fast in their makeshift prison. It was a small comfort, but it was all Daro could offer.

The cell doors suddenly opened with a resounding screech, the loud footsteps of the brutish armored krogan thundering as he tore Daro away from Kyta's warmth. Kyta let loose a muffled protest before the krogan's boot connected with her chest, sending her sprawling onto her back, a loud crack resonating from her bound and atrophied arms. Kyta screamed in pain, her weeping eyes the last thing Daro saw as she was left to suffer, twitching and shaking, alone with her misery. Daro's fists beat against the armored thug, howling in rage as she was torn from her suffering friend. She would not abandon her, not when she needed her most. Her hand suddenly found purchase, clawing at the krogan's eye, blinding him temporarily.

The krogan howled in pain, bringing his hands to his wounded eye, letting Daro slip free. Another guard rushed behind her, bringing his arms from beneath her in an attempt to restrain her. Daro brought her helmeted head backwards in a sharp and powerful blow, the guard's forehead split open in a bloody cut before Daro caught a powerful blow to the stomach, forcing the wind from her lungs. The krogan's fists joined together, bringing them down on her hanging head like a hammer. Daro felt her body slam against the solid stone floor before darkness took her.

The consuming, embracing darkness took Daro in it's arms once more, all the pain of her body a distant and unhappy memory. Daro could feel herself fighting it, trying to force herself awake. This complacent peace was not welcome. Not anymore. This embrace was hollow and empty next to the warm strength of Kyta's tender presence. Daro clawed at the inky blackness, tearing her way back to reality.

Daro was dimly aware of the throbbing pain coursing through her body, even the slightest movement sending jolts of agony through her. It seemed they were content to hand her to her client in her battered and unconscious state. If nothing else, Daro was at least grateful she hadn't had to endure the violation while conscious. Finding herself back in her cell, Daro made out Kyta's shadowed form huddled in the corner, her shoulders heaving with sobs. Daro slowly rose, feeling a wave of pain as she forced herself to her knees, speaking through clenched teeth.

"Kyta..."

Kyta's head turned, streams of translucent silver leaking from her eyes as she shuffled to face Daro.

"Daro... Keelah, I thought you were dead..." Daro was glad to hear her voice once again, even the faint ticking seemed to be absent. A frown crossed Daro's face as she slowly came to realization that the only reason that would be is Kyta must have had another client, and the guards had been "kind" enough to allow her what passed as a reprieve on Omega.

Daro pulled herself to her feet, dragging herself to Kyta's side and wrapping her arms around her friend, a rare silence surrounding them as they huddled close.

"I'm fine, Kyta. Don't worry. What about you...? Are you okay...?"

It was a foolish question. Kyta had endured torture at every level of her existence. Her eyes told Daro everything. Kyta leaned into Daro's embrace, biting back sobs as she nestled in her arms. Daro felt her guilt overwhelm her, tears welling up in her eyes at the thought of Kyta's suffering. Suffering she was still responsible for. Every failed attempt to keep her safe somehow drove Daro ever further into sadistic rage, her mind reeling with cruel intentions for their captors.

Kyta didn't deserve this. She was proud, defiant. She never begged. She fought. She never let them see her weakness, her pain. But she showed Daro. Looking down, Daro felt her blazing heart slowly cool as the broken pilgrim sobbed uncontrollably in her arms, finally breaking down in a way Daro had never seen before.

"It's okay, Kyta. You can let it all out. You're with me. You've been strong enough for one day."

Muted sobs turned to heaving cries, Kyta letting loose all her pain and suffering at Daro's words. Kyta buried her head in Daro's shoulder, warm tears glistening on the viridian surface. Daro's arms squeezed the girl tighter around her. Daro was overwhelmed by Kyta's trust in her, willing to bare her heart to her. Kyta's words choked out through heaving sobs and pleading cries.

"I-I just want it to stop… I just want to go h-home…"

Kyta pulled and squirmed in her restraints, apparently trying to tear her weakened limbs free. She found no give. She looked up at Daro. "H-Help me... Please... S-something…" She returned to yanking at her encased limbs, twisting herself into painful contortions in Daro's arms.

Daro looked on in horror, holding Kyta closer in an attempt to make her stop.

"I-I Sorry… I've tried… I do-"

Kyta jerked her head to look at her mid-contortion.

"Please!" Kyta yelled harshly.

Daro was visibly taken aback. She didn't know what to do. She felt her hands trembling and her lips sputtering, knowing her efforts would ultimately be fruitless. She had tried everything she could think of over a dozen times already. Watching Daro shake in fear, Kyta felt herself once more collapse against the last of the Xen family.

"I-I'm sorry Daro… I just…" She once more huddled into a ball, weeping freely. "I can't take this thing anymore… I c-can't…"

Daro's hand drifted along Kyta's helmeted head, trying to comfort her friend's grief the only way she had left.

"It's okay... We will go home. We will. We just need to be strong, Kyta..."

Kyta screamed, rage fuelling her outburst as she tried to pull and tear at her bindings again.

"I'm tired of being strong! I-I can't keep going like this..."

Kyta stopped struggling, Daro's hand moving to her back to help sooth the aching and atrophied muscles there. It was a futile gesture of comfort. Daro was helpless here. What could she say? Kyta was losing hope. It was something she had never seen from her friend, but something she had long expected. Holding this hopeless, sobbing girl in her arms, Daro could not find words.

"How can I go home...?" Kyta's chest heaved against Daro's, who sat frozen, only the trembling in her arms any indication of life.

"How could I look my parents in the eyes again...?" Kyta shifted uncomfortably. "They… I…" Kyta lowered her gaze to her bound and encased form.

"LOOK AT ME!" Kyta screamed at the top of her lungs. "LOOK AT THIS!" Daro's eyes traced over the various cloths and straps that adorned the small girl's suit. Something in her chest felt like it was breaking.

"I'm not even a person anymore!" Kyta rolled her head around on her shoulders, one of the few movements left to her. "I'm just a toy... Something to play with!" She turned her gaze to look at Daro once more. "Look at me… look at what they've turned us into…" Once more she buried herself into Daro's weakening hold, weeping without any restraint at all.

Daro felt tears rolling down her cheeks at Kyta's words, knowing full well that it was true for her as well. Looking down at Kyta, Daro felt herself lurch with disgust. Kyta was shackled in every way a person could be. Legs. Arms. Even her mouth when the time came. A prisoner in a second skin, forced to hurt and suffer simply because there were people in the universe who thought it was fun. Even for herself, Daro had no words of comfort, nothing to say to alleviate the pain, no balm for their wounds.

"I want to die, Daro…" Kyta couldn't bring herself to lift her gaze.

"Please... Kill me."

Daro reeled back as though she had been struck.

"W-What?"

Kyta lifted her head, staring into Daro's eyes with those glittering, tear-filled gems.

"Kill me... Please... I-I can't... I need you to help me... My arms…"

Daro was horrified, watching this girl she had come to respect and admire as her friend begging for her to end her life. It was surreal, her heart twisting into a knot as the world seemed to loose focus, Kyta occupying her every thought process. Daro's hands were shaking as she broke the embrace, trying to grasp what it was Kyta was asking of her.

"No... No, no, no... Kyta, please... I can't... I won't..."

Kyta's chest heaved, her cries sending her into a hyperventilating fit, screaming as she begged.

"Please! I can't go on any longer... I can't... not like this…" She stared hard into Daro's mask, silver streams cascading down her visor. "I want to be a person again… I don't want…" She tilted her down once more, gesturing to her twisted and bound body. "…this…"

Daro felt something in her break. She took her hands and cradled Kyta's visor, their silver eyes meeting through the panes of glass that kept them apart.

"Listen to me, Kyta. I promise you, we will go home. We'll... We'll... " Daro felt her voice breaking, "we'll have a house. A house on the home world. Just you and me, and our families and friends. We can live together in peace. Nobody to hurt us... Nobody to makes us feel like this ever again... We can be happy, together. I promise."

Kyta's chest continued to heave, her body utterly exhausted by her outbursts.

"You... You promise?" Her soft voice was almost childlike in it's purity.

Daro smiled, feeling the tears roll down her cheeks, half-believing her own words.

"I promise. We will have a home together, one day. No more hurting. No more of…" Daro ran a hand down the straps that held Kyta's arms, "… of this… I swear… we'll get out of here. I'll find a way. I promise… I'll find a way…"

Kyta buried her face in Daro's chest, visions of open plains and clear skies flashing in her mind. Friends, family, and a home, with nothing but nature and peace in sight. Kyta pulled desperately at her restraints, almost trying to will herself free. Daro gently stroked the damaged limbs, calming Kyta down as best she could.

Daro wasn't sure if even she believed her own words. It didn't matter. She would find a way out of this and she would take Kyta home. One way or another. If she could just accomplish that, she could do anything. On the blood of her ancestors, she would spend the rest of her life finding a way to build a home, if the ancestors could just help them get out of here. She'd find a way, no matter what it took.

Exhausted, Kyta finally collapsed into Daro's arms, unable to move any further. The images in her mind had given her renewed purpose, but now wasn't the time. Kyta looked up at Daro, staring long and hard into her eyes.

"I trust you, Daro. You'll find a way."

Running a hand through the mock veil around Kyta's head, Daro held her ever closer.

"I promise," Daro whispered.


	7. Depraved

Daro growled in frustration as she slammed a fist into the concrete walls of her cell. Looking down at the small sliver of metal held between her fingers, Daro took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She had been trying for nearly a week to dig at the automatic intravenous needle insertion device installed in her new mockery of a suit. Quarian suits came standard with intravenous suits to allow for injection of antibiotics, medicines, and nutrients when necessary, without the need to remove them. A small device in the arm automatically scans the limb for a proper insertion point, then imbeds the needle into the tissue where it can administer the necessary supplements.. Daro had been trying without success to damage this small device, in the hopes that by breaking it, she would be able to render the sedative injections her captors were so fond of using ineffective. The sedatives were enough to slow her reflexes and weaken her muscles without wearing her out entirely for the customer's pleasure. It made any coordinated movements extremely frustrating. Even her current task was made infinitely more difficult because of it. Keeping them from administering the drugs to her at all was the first step. She'd be able to finally fight back.

Unfortunately, her plan was also a double edged sword. Breaking the port meant that she wouldn't be able to take in any antibiotics administered, and her lifespan would be shortened considerably. Slowly lifting her gaze, Daro set her eyes on the small form huddled into a ball in the corner of the room. Kyta was sound asleep, oblivious to Daro's explosive outbursts and rage. Gently setting the small scrap of metal down on the floor where she wouldn't lose it, Daro decided it might be prudent to wait before trying again, giving her a moment to recollect herself. Sitting down instead by Kyta's prone form, Daro ran a gentle finger down her shackled arms, a fresh pang of disgust and hate settling in her gut. Soon, they would be free of this, and Kyta could leave this atrocity behind. Settling a sore hand weary of it's ceaseless grasping for freedom on Kyta's atrophied shoulder, Daro allowed herself a brief moment to dream of a better place, with clear blue skies and the green shades of nature and peace spreading for miles. No more hurt. No more pain. Never again.

It still made her reel to think that places like this existed at all. Pilgrimage training had a section on the things that happened to wayward Pilgrims, but like any young adult, Daro had thought herself invincible. Stronger than those who had let such a horrific fate befall them. She had been so utterly foolish. It made her sick to think that there were other people who had to endure this. Other quarians who went through this same experience. People who just dropped off the grid to labor in mines or brothels, and the fleet didn't even seem to care. It was worth the losses if it those successful got a few more scant resources. All in the name of prolonging a dying species extinction. Daro had to wonder how the krogan had lasted as long as they had in the face of their own annihilation.

Kyta shifted under Daro's slight touch, rolling over groggily to look up at the elder quarian.

"Hey," she said quietly, pulling Daro from her thoughts.

Daro looked into her visor and smiled weakly despite herself. "Hey," she replied. Kyta was the one good thing she had. Despite everything, being with her was enough to wind her down from her fits and temper.

Sitting up as best she could, Kyta sat with her back against the wall beside Daro. Resting a weary head on her companion's shoulder, she asked the same question she asked after any length of time away from Daro.

"Any luck yet?"

Daro couldn't bring herself to speak. Every added moment they stayed in this place was one more failure on her part. Hanging her masked helmet low, Daro shook her head. Kyta looked down at the gray slab that served as the bottom of their cell for a moment, before nuzzling closer into Daro's slumped shoulders.

"It's okay. You'll get it. I know you will."

Daro rested her head on Kyta's, letting herself lean on the smaller quarian for support, trying to forget the throbbing in her arm from the needle having to be mechanically reinserted dozens of times over the past week; a result of her attempts to break it. If she could just find a way to cut or smash the gears that inserted the needle, she would be able to set her plan in motion. It was proving easier said than done. Letting herself steal a glance at the young girl nestled up against her, Daro sighed almost contently at the contact. It was a welcome change from the brutal abuse sustained at the hands of the guards and the clients. Reaching over, Daro picked up the sealed bottle of water the guards had casually tossed into the cell the night prior. Uncoupling the tube from her companion's mask, Daro fit it onto the seal of the bottle. Daro had already had her fill, leaving more than three fourths of the clean liquid for Kyta.

"Drink," she whispered, stifling a wet coughing fit.

The bound girl gingerly sipped at the fresh liquid. She had long since learned not to argue with Daro about their rationing. She was incessantly stubborn in her belief that Kyta get the most of everything, and even threatened to eat nothing at all unless Kyta ate however much Daro had allotted her. It was always the majority share.

After Kyta was done draining the small container, Daro clipped the feeding tube back into place, and wrapped her arms around Kyta's small shoulders, both of them leaning on one another for support. Contact with Kyta had become the only comfort Daro had left in her new prison. The food was tasteless, the drink often stale or dirty, and every other sensation was a painful one in some capacity. But resting beside the only friend she had left was perhaps the most comforting thing Daro had ever felt. A sense of having someone who cared about her, and her having something to protect, to fight for, was a more alien notion to Daro than most. The constant torture of the brothel had only served to heighten the impact of her feelings. Tender moments with Kyta had become the highlights of her life. She truly didn't have anything else.

"When we get home… do you think we'll be able to do this again…?" Kyta asked after a long silence, her head resting against Daro, her eyes closed.

"Do what?" Daro asked, soaking up as much of Kyta's warmth as she could, holding her as close as she could without hurting her.

Kyta nuzzled into Daro's arms, a warm feeling of safety and protection growing in her chest. "This," she said. "Just us… being together like this. Maybe staying up and watching a movie… or playing a vid game together or something…"

Daro ran a hand through the mock veil attached to the back of Kyta's helmet, gently letting her fingers run through the cheap fabric. "Yes," Daro whispered. Kyta shifted her weight, trying to edge herself even closer. "Definitely." Kyta and Daro often talked about the things they'd do if they ever managed to get out. The dreams of happier days on the horizon helped keep the nightmares at bay.

Kyta smiled under her helmet.

"I've always wanted to see Vaenia. I heard it's won all kinds of awards. An instant classic."

Daro had the image of watching a vid with Kyta in a cubical on the Moreh, the lights off and a blanket wrapped around them both, warm, delicious food paste fresh from the live ships in one hand, and Kyta in the other. Daro reached for the metal sliver she had been fortunate to find on the floor several days and began digging away at her wrist.

"I promise, Kyta. We'll be home soon. I'm trying."

Kyta remained seated beside Daro, leaning on her contently while she worked at picking apart the suit.

"I know, Daro. I trust you."

No matter how much she tried, Daro couldn't get over how strange it was hearing someone say that to her. On the Khalos, no one had ever trusted her. Shen, maybe, and her parents. It was still strange, talking with someone else about movies and vid games. Daro cursed as the metal sliver slipped and scratched her suit.

"You ever play Geth of War? Or Grand Theft Flotilla?" Daro asked. Talking with Kyta generally helped improve her ability to think clearly.

"I've got the high score for Grand Theft Flotilla on the Qwib-Qwib." Kyta chuckled lightly. The sweet sound warmed Daro's heart. Such an ordinary action anywhere else was almost sacred to her amidst the misery here.

"My friend on the Khalos, he always used to get mad at me for playing it. Said it stereotyped quarians as thieves," Daro said, the sliver missing once again, the jerking motion causing the needle to retract and once more dig itself into her arm with a sore twinge.

"Shen?"

Daro smiled under her helmet. "Yeah." She had told Kyta all about her childhood guardian. He was a bright light in a sea of darkness, a single beacon against the blackness of space that had always seemed to guide her through the void. She missed him.

Kyta looked down at her shackled feet. A single toe silently rubbed a small circle into the dirty concrete floor. After a moment, she looked sideways at Daro.

"Were you two really, close? I mean, have you ever kissed anyone before…? Not like… here…"

Daro's hand stopped. She stared at her wrist with the radiating intensity of a blue giant.

"No."

Kyta slumped her shoulders. "Me either."

Daro's mind turned more fully to Shen. She had never really seen him in that light, never really thought about it, either. He was more like her big brother. That would have just been strange.

There was an awkward silence. After a moment, Kyta looked up into Daro's mask.

"I've always wondered… if it's different than… here… when it's someone you care about… or if it feels the same…"

Daro lowered both of her hands slowly, and returned Kyta's gaze, unsure of what to say. The best response was always the honest one.

"I… I don't know…"

Kyta shuffled nervously, playing with a loose piece of concrete with her foot, watching the little rock slide around on the floor.

"I hate it… when they… they…" Kyta closed her eyes. She wasn't able to take her suit off from the neck down when seeing a client. Unlike a proper quarian suit, these did not have section seals. They were not segmented. That only left so many options for the clients, and for Kyta. Some individuals preferred it with the suit left on anyway. A sick fetish they were forced to play out. She looked back to Daro. "I just… I want to know if it feels…" Kyta choked on whatever she was about to say next. Daro felt a pang of disgust well up inside of her. She couldn't count the number of times Kyta had been gagged, her jaws forced open, unable to do anything to prevent what always came next. The indignation was enough to cause her fists to shake in rage. The image of pouring molten metal down the throats of everyone who had ever hurt Kyta came to mind. It was a pleasant fantasy.

Daro set the sliver back down as the needle once more reinserted itself into a bruised vein.

"I never really thought about it… and the one time I did…" Daro felt a fresh wave of hate burn inside her chest at the thought of Jason, probably huddled up in his apartment with sand coursing through his arteries. "… I ended up here…"

Kyta felt herself sink lower against the wall.

"Oh… right… I… I didn't… "

Daro interjected, "It's okay. It's not your fault. It's mine."

For a while, the two quarians just stared at the blank wall opposite of them. After an awkward silence, Kyta once more scooted close to Daro, looking into her silver eyes.

"I… I know… I-if we ever got out of here… I mean… I know you probably… but… " Kyta closed her eyes, trying to work up the nerve to continue. Daro stared into her visor, unsure of what she was trying to tell her.

"I-I… I know you… and… but…" Kyta braced herself. "When we get home… would you want to… you know… sh-show me… your… uh… you know…" Kyta quickly began tripping over her words. "I mean… I know you probably don't want… and… but it's just… you're…" Kyta slowly brought her gaze back up to Daro's. "You're my friend. I… I don't know what I would do if you weren't here."

Daro felt numb. She didn't know what to say. She had been through a lot with Kyta. She was as close as she'd ever gotten to anyone in her entire life. The things they had endured together had been enough to cement a bond that was unlike anything Daro had ever experienced.

But the last time she had wanted to show her face to someone, it had ended with her current predicament. It was a sickening feeling. Something innocent and pure, that was meant to be about trust, would forever be associated with betrayal for the last of the Xen family. Daro stared long and hard into Kyta's eyes, silver almonds that sparkled in the dark room where they had found solace in each other.

"Kyta… I'm not... I don't know if..."

Daro's mind was in conflict, leaving her confused. Trying to speak was a mistake. She didn't know what it was exactly she wanted to stay.

Kyta's silver eyes shut tight, leaving Daro agonizingly without those radiant eyes that brought her the only measure of peace she had left as she shrugged herself free of Daro's grasp.

"It's alright... I knew you wouldn't want to... With me... I don't know why I asked..."

Daro felt her heart sink a Kyta broke away from her. She should have kept her mouth shut. It was her own fault that she had no way of knowing how to respond. She had never been very skilled when dealing with people of any species or persuasion, much less someone who was asking for something so... personal. It was confusing to her, on top of being such an emotional ordeal to begin with. A quarian's face was obscured for a reason. It gave the smallest measure of privacy they could hope for in a life as communal and sharing as their own. To share your face with someone, to share the very air you breathe. It was no small gesture. To share that with Kyta, for Kyta to ask that from Daro, it was something unfamiliar to her, and worse, something associated with very bad memories and feelings. Daro shook her head, shuffling closer to Kyta.

"No, Kyta. It's alright. I just... I'm not sure what to say..." Again, honesty was always the best way to approach things.

Kyta slowly turned to face Daro, the younger quarian huddled against the wall of the cell as her voice muttered out meekly.

"It's just… you mean a lot to me Daro… I want you to know that… and I understand if you…" Kyta trailed off, unable to finish.

Daro shuffled closer to the huddled quarian, laying a reassuring hand on Kyta's shoulder before hooking her arm around her and letting Kyta rest against her in a tender embrace.

"It's alright, Kyta... I..." Daro's vocabulary seemed to be in a constant state of deterioration.

Kyta crooned her head to meet Daro's gaze, curling her legs closer to her body to draw as much warmth from Daro's embrace as she could. Small droplets of starlight formed in beads at the edges of her eyes, tears running down Kyta's obscured cheeks.

Daro hated that she couldn't wipe them away.

"I just... I… you're special, Daro," she whispered, her voice soft and wispy in Daro's audio receptors. "You're kind… and strong… the strongest person I've ever met…" Kyta brought her visor closer to Daro's, their eyes never breaking contact.

Daro was suddenly very aware of how warm Kyta felt. Likely a result of their seemingly perpetual fever. Even though the suits, she felt radiant.

"And you're caring… I…" Kyta blinked before burying herself in Daro's chest. Almost instinctually, Daro held the small quarian closer, her arms wrapped around her in an all encompassing embrace. "And this… this is the best feeling in the world… when you're just holding me…" Kyta's voice was beginning to crack. "When you hold me just like this… and it feels warm… and… it doesn't hurt as much…" Kyta's voice was breaking entirely. "And I just wish I could hold you back…"

Daro gently held Kyta's head in her hand, holding her possessively to her. "It's okay Kyta." The young woman in her arms was often an emotional wreck when with Daro. She'd kick, scream, thrash, and do everything she could to fight everyone else. But in here, she was soft, and hurt, and broken, and it was something only Daro ever saw. She had grown accustomed to being Kyta's pillar, the one last thing still standing she had to lean on.

Sniffling, Kyta wrapped herself as closely to Daro as she could. "It's not okay. You've been so good to me. And… I can't even hold you… The same way you've held me… I need to hold you… I need…" Kyta winced visibly.

There was a pause, Daro nudging her reassuringly.

"I need to see you… you… you're more than my friend… we're family… and…. And I c-care about you…" Kyta went rigid in Daro's arms. "I care about you… so much…"

There was a long silence. For the longest time, neither Daro nor Kyta moved from their embrace. Daro could feel her heart pounding inside her chest. Letting a single finger trace along the base of Kyta's skull and down her neck, she stared at a spot on the floor, her mind racing.

"I… I care about you too, Kyta." Daro's voice was wet as she momentarily suffered another coughing fit. Settling down and looking back at the smaller quarian, she felt Kyta nestle against her. "I… I want to see your face, too… I trust you."

It was true. Daro wasn't sure about much of anything anymore. But Kyta understood more about her than anyone. She knew Daro. She'd never hurt her. The bond they had forged in the cold and the darkness was unbreakable.

Kyta looked up at Daro.

"Really…? You mean…?"

Daro held her gingerly, bringing her visor to rest softly against Kyta's.

"Yes. I would be honored to show you my face, Kyta," came the reply. It was spoken with sincerity, a solemn promise laced into the words.

They stayed like that for a moment, before Kyta quickly nuzzled into Daro affectionately.

"Thank you… You don't know how much that… thank you. I didn't think you'd want to… with me…"

Daro slid her hands over Kyta's suit, letting her snuggle into her embrace. For how long they stayed like that, Daro had no idea. Her fingers ran over the straps around Kyta's arms, as she often did, trying to alleviate at least some of the discomfort.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Kyta broke from Daro's embrace, shuffling on her knees to face Daro.

"I... I need you to remove mine. I can't... My arms..."

Daro looked over Kyta's mask.

"N-now?" she said suddenly, realization dawning on her like a Tuchankan sunrise.

Looking up at her, Kyta nodded. "Please…? I… they all get to… to see you… and… I…"

Daro felt her heart breaking. Showing one's face was sacred to the quarians, and she had been forced to whore that, and much more to the brothel's clientele.

This was the first time she would ever get a say in the matter.

"Kyta… I…" This was hardly ceremonious. Looking down into Kyta's pleading eyes, a very apparent thing made itself known to Daro.

She wanted to see Kyta's face, too.

"Okay…" she said, hesitation slowly crawling away from her heart. "Okay. Are… are you sure?"

Kyta shifted in Daro's hold, bringing her knees closer to her chest, and by extension, Daro's, curling into a ball in her arms.

"I want this… Daro. You're my best friend. The greatest friend I've ever had. The greatest friend I will ever have. I will never have endured as much with someone else as I have with you…" Kyta's relationship with Daro was unique. She was her pillar, her fortress, the final spark that kept her flame burning.

"Thank you, Kyta." Daro meant it. Showing her face to Kyta would never have the same meaning as it would showing it to her without having had to endure what they had here. But that was okay, in a way.

Daro knew it didn't need to have that to be meaningful. Not in that sense. Their connection, friendship, and dependence on one another was what made it beautiful.

Daro's hands cautiously reached for Kyta's mask, examining the locks of the visor with practiced motions. The locks were of similar design to the ones built in their real suits, only opening after a specific line of code was sent from an omni-tool to allow for a manual release switch to disengage the mechanism entirely. Tidanya and Kiron was the only ones who had the necessary code for their masks, opening the manual release before sending them to a client. Unfortunately, the locks binding Kyta's arms were of completely different make. No brute force could remove them without seriously injuring Kyta in the process. Daro's hands left Kyta's mask, looking around the room in search for a solution. Her eyes fell upon the small sliver of jagged metal she had been attempting to use to damage the intravenous system in their suits, an idea forming in her head.

Daro reached for the sliver of metal, taking a soft grip on Kyta's visor as she brought it closer to the underside of her mask.

"Don't move."

It was not a command or an order, but a whispered request as Daro pressed the sliver of metal into the hollow space were the manual release was hidden. Metal scrapped along metal, Daro jostling the jagged sliver against the release in an attempt to force it free. These helmets weren't nearly as well-designed as the real ones. There was bound to be a way to force the visor free.

Daro pressed the sliver of metal deep into the crook of the mask, hearing a soft chime and a sharp pneumatic hiss as the pane of glass nearly fell free of it's place. Daro set the metal scrap to the side, one hand holding the pane of obscuring glass over Kyta's face as their eyes met.

"Are you sure this is what you want...?"

Daro saw the corners of Kyta's lips curve into a gentle smile, the new perspective of the opaque glass giving her a more clear view of Kyta's face.

"Yes, Daro. More than anything in the world."

Daro held her breath as she slowly moved the mask away from Kyta's face, gently laying the pane of glass onto the floor beside them. Kyta had her eyes closed, slowly opening them as she felt the stale air of the cell on her bare skin. Daro's eyes never left hers, smiling beneath her own mask at Kyta. One clear tear fell from the corner of Kyta's eye, leaving a wet trail in it's path. Daro's gloved hand slowly reached out, gently gliding along Kyta's cheek as her thumb wiped away the warm droplet from her smooth flesh. Kyta nestled her cheek in Daro's palm, nuzzling against her three fingers as best she could, smiling up at Daro.  
Daro's hand slowly left Kyta's cheek, one finger gliding along the silken smooth skin before she reached for the jagged sliver of metal once more. Freeing her own mask was easier without having to worry about harming Kyta, a sharp hiss and the feel of the weight shifting in Daro's hand alerting her. Daro felt her hand shaking as she laid down the scrap of metal, feeling suddenly self-conscious of what she was doing.

What if Kyta found her hideous?

Kyta's silver starry eyes gazed up at Daro worriedly, the elder quarian temporarily mesmerized by the movement of her lips as she spoke.

"It's okay if you don't want to, Daro... I... I understand... If you're scared, I don't blame you... You don't have to do anything you don't want to... I promise... It's okay..."

Daro felt tears of her own welling up in her eyes, her hand shaking but refusing to bring the mask away from her face. Overwhelming shame forced a muted sob from Daro's lips, ashamed that Kyta had placed such trust in her to show Daro her face, while fear kept Daro rooted where she was.

"I... I'm sorry... I just... I want to... I do... Keelah, I do... I just... I just…"

She saw Jason. This should have been them. He should have been the one she was holding. He should have been holding her. She had wanted to share this with him. He had hurt her. Destroyed her.

"J-Jason…" she whispered, her voice a hollowed out twist in the windless air.

Kyta shuffled closer to Daro, knees bumping up against hers as she leaned forward to sooth her friend's sobbing.

"He isn't here, Daro. He can't hurt you. It's just us. Just you and me."

Daro felt warm tears roll down her cheeks as she let her eyes meet Kyta's, again. She thought about all those cold nights they spent huddled together, finding warmth in each other's embrace. She thought about all the times they had cried together, finding solace and comfort in each other's words. She thought about all the memories they shared together, all the things they missed about their home on the Flotilla. She thought about the promise they made together, about the beautiful home they would build on Rannoch one day. A dream, maybe.

But one worth living for.

She thought about their love for one another. What else could it be called? The bond that was theirs was so far transcendent from anything else Daro had experienced, she didn't have any other word for it. This was all she had left.

Daro slowly lowered her mask.

The cerulean pane of glass vanished from Daro's vision, meeting Kyta's silver eyes unobstructed for the first time. Kyta's lips slowly curved into a gentle smile, Daro's heart racing at the loving gesture. Small tears ran in rivulets from her eyes, Daro overcome with emotion at Kyta's acceptance of her.

Everything felt right. Daro's eyes danced over Kyta's face, hers doing the same. Daro wasn't sure how long they stayed there, just looking at one another, cherishing one another, looking at one another without masks. Daro felt something warm crawl into her heart at the notion that no matter what anyone did to them here, they would never have this. This was theirs. They could take their masks, their dignity, their freedom, and anything else they wanted.

Not this.

Taking in Kyta's face for everything it was, Daro knew she was the only to have ever seen it and to appreciate it. That was hers. She owned that, and nothing would take that from her. Nothing.

Eventually, her gaze found Kyta's and she lost herself again. Her eyes were hypnotic, and Daro felt the entire universe melt away. There was only Kyta's eyes, moist and soft, the lids half closed, looking at her gently, warmly, her lips small and opened just slightly.

Daro became so lost in Kyta's eyes, she barely even noticed that the smaller woman's face was slowly edging itself closer to hers. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. There was no thought, no awareness. Just those eyes caressing her a few inches away.

Millimeter by millimeter, that distance slowly closed, until there was nothing between them

Their lips met and Daro felt the universe melt away. Everything slowed and blurred, feeling the warm pressure of Kyta's soft lips on hers. It was nothing like the harsh treatment Daro had received in the brothel. Warm water ran down her cheeks, awakening Daro from her reverence, breaking the kiss from Kyta awkwardly, suddenly self-conscious of her actions.

Kyta slowly opened her heavy-lidded eyes, lips still pursed and awaiting Daro's. A worried look crossed Kyta's bare face as she looked into Daro's weeping eyes, nuzzling into Daro's chest and cooing softly to the elder quarian.

"Was... Was that okay...? Did I do something wrong? I…"

Daro felt her breath catching in her throat as Kyta spoke.

"I…" she stammered, "that… I just wanted to…" She looked shamefully at the floor. "J-just wanted to know if it was different… when… when…" Silver shards of crystal burned up into Daro's gaze. "S-someone you care about. I…" She closed her eyes, a look of despair working it's way into the smooth contours of her face. "I'm sorry… I should have…"

Daro's mind was reeling. Kyta had wanted to take of her mask with her. She wanted to see her face. She wanted to share her air.

She had kissed her.

Daro didn't know what to think. Everything felt blurred. She was confused. Was it simple curiosity that had brought Kyta's lips to her own? Had this meant as much as much as a fleeting feeling of longing and comfort?

Or was it something else?

"K-Kyta…?" she toned softly, holding the small girl in her arms as she overcame her initial shock.

Those small discs of silver radiance shone in the dark, beacons of light that drew Daro in. Her small lips only moved slightly when she spoke.

"You're very special to me, Daro…"

Daro felt her toe twitch. "Y-you mean…?"

Kyta stared into her, finally nodding slowly.

A small, fresh stream of water slid down her cheek, Daro catching it and wiping it away with her thumb. Kyta nuzzled into the embrace, her whole upper body cradled in Daro's arms as she curled under her chin.

"So very special…"

Resting her hand on Kyta's head, she let the digits run through the cheap fabrics, her finger tracing over Kyta's cheek gently. Daro's mind was alight with activity, her thoughts a wild, unorganized mess.

What had Kyta implied? She cared about her a great deal. She was affectionate. She also cared about Kyta. She had not expected this.

Daro had always entertained the idea of finding someone after Pilgrimage, a dashing captain or a roguish scoundrel to contest her wits with. Kyta was certainly not the image she had gotten when entertaining such fantasies.

Daro stared down at Kyta's bound form. She truly was something special. She was strong, like herself. She didn't show weakness to the guards. To Daro, yes, but never to the people who abused her.

There was something in that.

Daro felt uncertain. She cared about Kyta greatly. They had endured horrors together. Regardless, her confession was still a lot to take in. Daro had never given much thought to a same-sex partnership, but it wasn't something that was entirely alien to her. Many species since meeting the asari invariably grew more and more open in their sexuality over time, as everyone found the asari attractive. It served to break down a great many social barriers, and the quarians had been no exception. Daro had never really thought about it, but she had never been opposed to the idea. As the popular asari saying went, "character matters, not race or gender."

That wasn't her main concern, anyway. Daro felt Kyta in her arms. She cared about the small girl more than anyone else alive, but the fact of the matter was, the last time she had opened up to someone, it had ended in disaster. Oddly, the knowledge of that wasn't doing much to curb Daro's train of though. Kyta was different. Their entire relationship was different. They had endured together. The sight of seeing each other in pain was unbearable to both of them. Kyta had never done anything to hurt Daro. She was also a quarian. She understood the importance behind quarian relationships in a way no human could. She was willing to share that with Daro. She wanted to.

Daro ran her eyes over the numerous straps and cloths attached to Kyta's suit. She'd have given anything for them to not be there. To be able to feel skin on hers. Kyta cared about her, and Daro cared about her. That much was fact. Daro hadn't said it, but she had wondered the same thing Kyta had. If it felt different when it was with someone you cared about. She wished there were no suits. No veils or chains. Just them. Just two people who needed each other.

Two people who loved each other.

Daro stammered, not wanting to break the silence..

"It's okay, Kyta. You're special to me, too."

Kyta looked up at her, her face lit with a warming smile that sent shivers down Daro's spine. It wasn't small or weak. It was a hopeful grin. Bright and radiant. Daro held one of Kyta's cheeks in her hand, the other supporting her by her back, cradling her.

"You mean…?" Kyta trailed off. Her hopelessly bright face sending waves of warmth across Daro's bruised and battered skin. She nodded to her, a soft smile slowly sliding it's way across her own face. After a moment, it slowly faded as she diverted her gaze.

"I just... I'm... afraid, Kyta…"

Kyta nudged Daro's cheek with her own, meeting her tearful gaze, smiling reassuringly up at the quarian. Her voice was warm. It was how she had always envisioned Rannoch's sun on her bare skin would have felt.

"It's okay, Daro. I'm right here. You don't need to be afraid around me. You know that."

Daro choked back a sob, wiping away the tears streaming from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I know, Kyta... I know... The only person... The only person I ever wanted to... to do this with…" Daro felt herself choking. Jason's rugged features mocked her in the dark of her own mind. "I... I'm just scared... What if we never get out of this place? What if... something happens to you...? What if-"

She couldn't lose so much, again. Never again.

Kyta leaned forward, bringing her lips against Daro's once more, silencing the elder quarian instantly. Kyta's lips moved passionately, locked with Daro's in a sublime dance of passion. Gently, Kyta's lips closed around Daro's lower lip, suckling on the soft flesh lightly, her warm breath caressing Daro's bare skin as she exhaled. Slowly, Daro moved her lips with Kyta's. The feeling of her bare, sensitive flesh coming together with Kyta's warm, tender lips sending her heart into a ecstatic, furious rhythm. Her breath was warm against her skin, air passing between them through contented sighs and muffled moans.

Slowly, they pulled apart. Looking down at the woman cradled in her arms, Daro rocked her back and forth, holding her to her own chest, her eyes not leaving Kyta's, even to blink. "Okay, Kyta. Okay…" She ran a finger down Kyta's cheek.

"I... I just... I want you to know... I'm just so scared, Kyta... I thought he... he loved me... I thought I could help him... I... thought we could be happy together and... and... It was all t-taken from me... I don't want that to h-happen again... I c-can't..."

Daro's babbling slowly devolved into sobbing. With a creak from her overly tight suit, Daro's head fell onto Kyta's shoulder, burying her tears away from Kyta in shame as she continued her broken rambling.

"I... I... c-can't... I'm not... s-strong enough... I can't lose you..."

Daro felt Kyta shift her weight, leaning her head to rest her cheek on top of Daro's head, whispering softly.

"I can't lose you either, Daro. You've given me so much. You... You kept me alive. You gave me something to hope for. Something to believe in. I... I wanted you to kill me that night..."

Daro raised her head, two sets of weeping silver stars meeting each other in the darkness. She tried not to think of that night.

"Kyta, don't-"

"No, Daro. It's alright. I... I wanted to die. I felt so... empty. Like there was nothing left to live for. No hope of ever truly living again. But you, Daro, you gave me that. You gave my something to hold on to. You gave me you."

Kyta leaned forward, a soft smile filled with contentment and warmth crossed her face.

"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. No matter what happens, they can't take that away from me. They can't take away... this."

Kyta pressed her lips against Daro's once more, Daro slowly bringing her hands along Kyta's suited form in a loving caress. Daro felt Kyta's tongue slowly brush against her lips, seeking entry, Kyta wordlessly asking for permission. The gesture caused a warmth bloom in Daro's breast, letting a tear fall from her eye as she gently matched each of Kyta's loving movements. After weeks of abuse and being used with no way to stop it, something as simple as kissing was an intimate act that was almost overpowering in it's purity. For Kyta to have the compassion to ask before acting on her own desires made Daro swell with passion towards Kyta. Slowly bringing the tip of her own to greet Kyta's tongue, they slowly slid past one another and embraced in each other's mouths in a long, sweet kiss.

Warm breath passed between the embracing quarians, forgetting the pain and suffering beyond the four stone walls. The rest of the galaxy seemed to melt away as though the warmth of their passionate kiss had banished all the cold and harshness from existence. One set of three-fingered hands gently massaged the bound and atrophied arms of the other, soothing the pain there until it was barely present. Their hearts raced in harmony with the other, beating only for each other.

Slowly, their lips parted, heavy-lidded eyes opening and viewing each other as though for the first time. Daro slowly reached up to Kyta's face and wiped away her tears, smiling at the bound quarian with genuine joy and warmth.

"Thank you, Kyta."

Kyta's eyes never left Daro's, nuzzling against Daro's three-fingered hand and placing a chaste kiss on her wrist.

"Thank you, Daro. For everything you've done for me. For not giving up. For letting me be with you. For being you..."

For a long time, there was only their embrace, their breath hot on each other's lips, sharing their air with one another in the only way they had open to them.

After long silence, Daro leaned forward to meet Kyta's lips with her own once more, reaching for the small pane of viridian glass that made up Kyta's mask as the kiss broke, resting her forehead against Kyta's and gently nuzzling their noses against each other's.

"Kyta... I need to put your mask back on..."

Kyta tensed in Daro's arms.

"No. Daro… I don't want this to-"

Bringing her finger up to Kyta's lips, Daro silenced her. "Kyta," she began, "we have to. You're sick enough as it is…"

Kyta squirmed in Daro's grip, her shackled feet kicking out wildly, her arms straining against her suit. "No! Daro, don't! Please…"

Daro felt her heart breaking in her chest. "Kyta, we have to. We can't get out of here if we both die from being out of our suits for too long. And you've been sicker than usual." Daro felt her voice crack. "I can't risk you. I'm sorry."

Kyta's eyes glistened in the dark. "I know, Daro. I just don't want this to end…"

One warm drop of water slid down Kyta's cheek as she placed another gentle kiss on Daro's lips.

"Promise me we'll do this again, Daro... When we get home... Promise..."

Daro brought her gloved hands to either side of Kyta's head, holding her gently as she brought Kyta's eyes to meet hers.

"I promise, Kyta."

Daro sneaked another kiss as she brought the mask closer to obscure Kyta's face, the younger quarian almost whimpering as Daro broke from gently sucking on Kyta's lower lip. Daro carefully replaced the opaque mask into it's fixture on Kyta's visor, a soft hiss whispering as the locks clamped shut and the airtight seals engaged. With another his, Daro could hear the suit purifying itself, pumping cleansing mist and purified air into the suit. One of the few quality functions their mockeries of skin actually held.

Daro could see Kyta's silver eyes staring back at her from beneath her visor, visibly saddened to be once again trapped as a faceless prisoner to the suit that kept her alive long enough to suffer for the amusement of others. Daro placed one gloved finger on her soft lips, kissing the small digit before letting it trace around the circular light of her voice modulator, smiling at Kyta as she replaced her own obscuring cerulean mask.

Their faces obscured once more, Kyta suffered another coughing fit, more prolonged than normal. Daro rocked Kyta back and forth, holding her head to her chest and resting her chin on the top of her helmet as Kyta hacked. Her breathing returning to normal, both women stayed like that for a time, eyes closed, resting in each other's warmth.

Daro spent a few moments trying to reconstruct Kyta's face in her head, burning the image into her head. She wanted to see it again.

She had to get them out of here.

Slowly, almost gingerly, Daro's arm reached out to grasp at the sliver of jagged metal she had been using to dig at the intravenous system in her arm, stopping as she felt Kyta nestle herself deeper into Daro's embrace.

"Don't... Please... Can we stay like this just a little longer...?"

Daro's hand slowly returned to the warmth enveloping them both, letting her hand absently rub and massage at Kyta's bound arms. Through the comforting warmth, Daro could almost feel Kyta's heart beating against her own, the deep drumming drowning out all other vile filth and riotous noise they were surrounded by. Slowly, Daro remembered how to speak through the blissful haze.

"When we go home... Will you come with me...? To the Moreh...?"

Kyta slowly crooned her neck up, silver shards of stars gleaming with love staring up at her through a pane of jade, her voice so tender and loving it made Daro's heart rush to hear it.

"Of course... I'm yours, Daro... I promise..."

Daro felt warm tears well up in her eyes at Kyta's words, her acceptance of Daro touching the quarian at her very core. Kyta meant everything to her. She gave her drive beyond cold-blooded sadistic vengeance, something beautiful, bright, and warm that radiated and pulsed like a small sun and banished the darkness that threatened to consume her. If that was not something worth fighting for, Daro did not believe anything was. Daro's embrace tightened, hoping to absorb even the slightest fraction more warmth from Kyta as possible.

"We'll have our own cubicle... Just us... I'll work in the labs and you can go back to dancing... Or helping me with my work. We'll stay up every night-shift and watch vids and play games, and your parents can come over for dinner, and... and... I'm babbling, again..."

Kyta giggled lightly as she nestled her helmeted head in Daro's chest, a warm and melodic sound.

"It sounds wonderful, Daro."

Blissful silence washed over them as they curled against each other's embrace, forgetting the pain and suffering surrounding them for at least a short while longer. Daro's eyes shut as she let herself be bathed in Kyta's warmth, her mind wandering to the ecstatic joy she still felt lingering in her body, her heart surging at the thought that it was the girl she had her arms wrapped around who gave her that. For the first time Daro could remember since her losing her parents, she felt loved. Truly and unconditionally loved. It wasn't the same with Jason. Daro had been working towards that love with him. Hoping to truly find it when his love for Red Sand was no more. With Kyta, she already had it. Daro dimly felt the weight of Kyta's head leave her chest, the girl looking up past the cerulean visor Daro wore.

"Daro...?"

"Yes...?"

"I... I just want you to know... I... I lo-" Kyta cut herself short, hesitating for a moment.  
"You know what...? No... Not here... I'll tell you when we get home... You'll have to get us home of you want to hear it. You have to keep your promise."

Daro shifted to meet the brilliant stars of Kyta's eyes, her own chips of ice melting at Kyta's words.

"It's okay, Kyta... I know... Keelah... believe me... I know... but not here... not like this... when we're home... you can tell me... I'll get us there."

Kyta curled back into Daro's embrace, a contented sigh slipping past her voice modulator.

"You promise?"

Daro's hand went to Kyta's head dress, idly massaging the tender limbs bound behind her back as Kyta's eyes slowly drifted shut.

"I promise."

Kyta's lids stayed shut, silence bathing them in the afterglow before Kyta murmured, sleep softening her tone.

"Kyta'Xen..."

Daro tilted her head downwards, unsure she had heard what she thought she had heard.

"What's that?"

Tight fabric creaked and stretched as Kyta crooned her neck to gaze into Daro's eyes, the slight tug of the visible muscles of her face suggesting a smile.

"Kyta'Xen."

Daro sputtered, unsure of what to say. It was customary for the woman to take the clan name of the man in a bonding ceremony. For Kyta to wish to take her name, to imply for them to bond one day, sent warm shivers down Daro's spine.

"...Kyta?"

Kyta nestled her head in Daro's chest, nuzzling closer as she spoke, her voice muffled in Daro's embrace.

"Something to think about."

Daro's hand glided along the mock head dress Kyta wore, looking worriedly down at the girl nestled in her arms.

"A-Are you sure...? I mean... It's just... It's..."

Kyta nuzzled against Daro, attempting to reassure her in the only way her bound form could.

"Yes. I'm sure."

Daro's arms wrapped tighter around the one thing in life she had left, shutting her eyes tight, swearing to herself and all her ancestors that she would never let Kyta go, no matter what came. They would have their home together and nothing would stand in her way.

"What... What about your parents? I don't... Would they... approve of me...? Us?"

Kyta lifted her head, shuffling to bring their visors closer to each other. 

"Listen to me, Daro. I know what happened to your parents. I know you... you haven't had a family in... a long time. I want to give that to you. We'll have our home and our family. I promise. They'll understand. You are the only Xen left. I can't take that from you. I won't."

Kyta smiled up at Daro through her jade mask, eyes full of gentle love and compassion.

"I think they'll like you. You're strong. You fought for me. You protected me. Right now, you're the whole world to me. I can't think of anyone else I could ever want to be with."

Daro blinked, feeling warm tears running down her cheeks as Kyta nestled back into her embrace, her head resting just beneath her neck. Daro squeezed Kyta closer to her, whispering to her as Kyta's eyes slowly drifted shut.

"Thank you, Kyta."

Daro's hand went to the mock veil Kyta wore, gently playing with the soft fabric as the girl rested her weary body in Daro's embrace. Kyta's voice was soft, like a loving whisper escaping through a band of silk.

"You're beautiful."

A bead of warm water ran down Daro's cheek as she turned her eyes to the girl she held in her arms. Kyta nuzzled into Daro's chest, cooing as she slowly drifted to blissful sleep.

"You're beautiful where it matters... Here..."

Daro bit her lip to fight back her sobbing, tears welling in her silver eyes. Kyta slept undisturbed and serene in Daro's arms, the elder woman gripping onto her and using her own body as a cushion for her lover. Tear-swollen eyes surveyed the darkness of the cell, silently cursing the stone as she looked down at the curled soft body in her arms. Tomorrow, they would both walk free of this place, unbound together. The thought brought a soft smile to Daro's lips, slowly closing her eyes as more tears forced themselves down her cheeks.

Reaching for the sliver of metal, Daro began slowly digging it into her suit again, trying her best no to disturb Kyta. She tore at the fabric, tears dripping from her eyes as more and more time went on with no success. She picked at it desperately, stabbing at her own arm in her attempts to get it out. If she could just remove it, the drugs the suit kept pumping into her blood would be stopped. She'd have coordination, be able to focus and see properly. She'd have the element of surprise this time. She would not fail. If she did, it would be because she was dead.

She refused to let that happen.

Several hours later, Daro eventually joined Kyta in blissful sleep, exhausted from her efforts. She was not even aware that she had drifted off. The darkness had overtaken her, the small sliver clattering to the floor as she dozed against Kyta.

For the first time in what felt like eternity, Daro had beautiful dreams. Dreams of coming home after a long day at the labs and meeting Kyta's warm embrace. Dreams of prying her mask free, their lips joining in a fiery and passionate union, sweet and luscious in it's carnal delight. Kyta's tongue dancing with hers, battling for control of her mouth before Kyta pushes her onto the bed, giggling and whispering honeyed words into Daro's ear as her suit is slowly and sensually stripped from her body. Dreams of warm flesh joining hers, feeling smooth skin joined in ecstatic passion and joy, warmth and love becoming part of every atom of her being.

She saw Kyta dancing, long strips of viridian cloth whispering in the air along with her movements, the soft chime of bells hanging on her wrists and ankles from jeweled bangles, silver stars gazing at her from beyond her jade veil. A long sash flowing with the gyrations of her hips, Daro's eyes met hers, sharing a knowing glance with her lover. The crowds would cheer for the beauty of Kyta's performance, the drums beating out a deep rhythm around her, but it was nothing compared to the dances they shared together in their home. Dances Kyta had taught her when they were alone together.

She saw a beautiful home, alive with the sound of music and the smell of cooking food. She saw them laughing together in their cubicle, the light of the vid screen illuminating them as they held each other, loving and content. She saw Kyta's parents visiting, laughing as they showed Daro holos from when Kyta was still in her bubble. They accepted her, smiling as they watched Daro and Kyta embrace, treating Daro as their own. She had a family again.

She saw her people's triumphant return to the home world, Kyta dancing in the streets with the jubilant crowds, everyone hailing them as heroes. She had done it. Working tireless shift after shift in the labs with Kyta at her side, she had found a way to bring them home. She never had to be alone again. Kyta was safe. Her people were safe. All because of her.

Harsh groaning of metal banished happiness and beauty, crimson light spilling into the cell over the embracing quarians. Daro blinked sleep from her eyes as Kyta was torn from her arms with a painful yelp, the turian gripping her wrenching her twisted limbs. Kiron's familiar skull-faced grin met Daro's gaze, a swift backhand from a second guard sending her sprawling onto the ground before she could resist. The lingering softness and warmth left Daro's body all too soon, replaced with harsh stone and cold hatred.

Daro slowly crooned her head up at Kiron, eyes of white hot fire boring into his black orbs, the turian giving her a slight nod.

"Morning, ladies."

Kiron twisted Kyta's bound arms, the sharp and sickening snap of broken bone resounding in the dark cell before Kyta screamed. Daro was on her feet faster than the eyes could follow, lunging at Kiron before another blow smashed against her visor. Daro tasted blood in her mouth as she shook the ringing impact from her head, screaming at the skull-faced turian.

"You bastard! Let her go! I'll kill you! I swear on all of my ancestors, I'll-"

A cool voice split the air like steel, feminine and commanding.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic..."

The hollow sound of heeled toes echoed in the cell, Kiron and the other two guards quickly silencing themselves as an asari slowly made her way past the threshold of the cell. A suit of commando leathers reflected the crimson light in iridescent patterns designed to draw the eye to her voluptuous form as she slowly glided into the cell, reveling in every sashaying movement of her own hips. One gloved hand glided along the jade surface of Kyta's mask, letting out a soft purr from painted black lips as she traced around the circular light of her voice modulator. Faint blue eyes stared back at Daro, ice-cold orbs mocking her with the intimacy of the gesture. Her right eye was decorated in a swirling pattern of black ink against her blue flesh, as twisted and sinister as the woman it marked. Tidanya smirked as venomous mockery spilled from her succulent lips like poison.

"She wasn't using them anyway."

Daro clenched her teeth as she slowly rose to her feet, shaking the pain of the blow and the weariness of sleep from her body. Tidanya's tongue slowly dragged along the surface of her black lips at Daro's defiant gesture, biting her lower lip as she motioned to the other two guards. The human and the turian flanked Daro, restraining her as she kicked and thrashed against them, screaming and cursing. Tidanya smirked with smug satisfaction at Daro's feeble attempts at escape, her hands slowly reaching for either side of Kyta's visor.

Daro stared with wide-eyed shock, realization of Tidanya's intentions sending a nauseating current of dread through her body, her tone laced with ice-cold hate as she thrashed against the guard.

"No! Let her go! You whore! Let her go!"

Tidanya brought her cerulean face to Kyta's visor, her black lips ghosting along the jade surface as she stared into the brilliant stars of her eyes, weeping silver streams of tears through muted sobs.

"Embrace eternity."

Tidanya's eyes turned to orbs of black, an all-consuming abyss existing where there was once only cruel ice. Kyta's body spasmed, as though some horrifying force had gripped her body and tore into her mind, her voice screeching off the walls in violent screams. Kiron laughed as the bound quarian squirmed in his grip, his mandibles flared in a cruel sneer. Daro screamed, desperately kicking and thrashing as she cried out Kyta's name. Tidanya moaned as her fingers caressed Kyta's helmeted head, bringing her black lips to her audio enhancers, whispering mockery of all the things she found within the quarian's mind.

Tidanya released Kyta from the foul embrace, the weeping girl's knees buckling under her and mangling her arms further in Kiron's vice-like grip. Tidanya let one gloved hand glide along her breasts, licking her lips with a sleek dark blue tongue before bringing her hand along the painted plates of Kiron's face.

"It seems you were right. Very astute of you."

Daro felt tears well up in her eyes at Kyta's limp form, clenching her teeth through hateful sobs.

"Kyta... Please... Get up... Get up!"

Tidanya languidly turned to regard Daro, ice-blue eyes slowly drinking in every curve of Daro's body. Her lips pursed as she slowly made her way over to Daro.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... So defiant. Oh... So defiant..."

Tidanya's eyes glanced at the small sliver of metal Daro had used to dig at her arm gleaming in the faint light, picking it up and examining it with feline disdain before handing it to one of the guards.

"You won't be needing that anymore, pet. Neither of you are going anywhere unless I demand it."

Daro seethed as Tidanya slowly circled her, the click of her heeled boots and the faint sound of Kyta's whimpering echoing within Daro's helmeted skull as her mind raced with sadistic urges against everything around her.

"Although, I can't say I didn't expect it from you. You are so deliciously defiant... So unlike these slobbering mutts I find myself wasting credits on."

Tidanya quickly made her way around to face Daro, bringing her black lips to the sleek material covering Daro's neck, planting devouring kisses and letting her dark blue tongue drag along her body before bringing their eyes to meet.

"I could see it in your eyes. You are a rare breed. Strong. Powerful. It is... intoxicating..."

Daro's eyes were white-hot fury as she thrashed against the asari's molestation, her voice cold and clear in it's icy promise of violence.

"I will kill you for touching Kyta, you filthy asari-" Daro was cut off as Tidanya licked her lips as she let one gloved hand slowly glide along the suited curves of Daro's body, groping one of her breasts and dragging her tongue along the encased mound of flesh.

"Yes... That's it... That spark... So very few in this galaxy have it..." Daro felt her body go rigid at the asari's ministrations, her silver eyes staring past the foul creature to watch Kyta, dimly aware of Tidanya's words as the asari ran her hands over her body possessively.

"Such a rare gift, that strength... That will... I had to have it. I needed to own it. To break it. But... You... My pet... You have stayed oh so very resiliant... And I think I know how."

Tidanya turned, gesturing to the guards to release Daro while she slowly circled around the cell until she came to Kyta.

"I know your kind. Quarians. You are a communal people by instinct. I knew you and the little suited bitch would make fine friends..."

Tidanya let her hand reach out to pull up on Kyta's visor, looking from one quarian to the other, laughter like honey laced with poison spilled from her lips.

"...But even I could not have predicted you would resort to copulating in the dirt like varren bitches caught in heat."

Daro's eyes darted from Tidanya to Kyta, every single muscle in her body screaming to be released into a killing frenzy, screaming that Daro ignored, knowing that to do so would put Kyta's life at forfeit. The asari was trying to goad her, and Daro knew it. It made her sick. Tidanya slowly took step after step towards Daro, relishing at the sight of her malicious stare and every slight quiver of rage building in her body.

"I must say... It is... enticing to think you would debase yourself in such a way... I find the thought... irresistible..."

Daro glared as Tidanya let her tongue drag slowly across her black lips, the asari smiling with ivory teeth that resembled fangs.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself. We'll have all the time in the world for that later, pet."

"Stop calling me that!" Daro yelled. Tidanya's constant inference that she was her pet only served to further incite her.

Ignoring the outburst, Tidanya slowly came behind Daro, pulling the quarian to her feet as she nuzzled the back of her neck, kissing and sucking and biting at the concealed flesh there. Tidanya's voice was a whisper over her painted lips dragging along Daro's neck.

"Look at her, pet," mocked Tidanya.

Daro watched as Kiron pulled on Kyta's mangled arms, forcing the bound quarian to her feet.

"Everything that has happened to her... Everything she has endured... Is your fault."

Daro felt rage grip her, moving to perform whatever horrifying dismemberment to Tidanya that first came to mind before feeling steely fingers come around her chest and grip her throat while a hand slowly crept along her inner thigh. Tidanya laughed into her audio enhancers, suckling and biting at Daro's neck as she spoke.

"I knew you could not be broken. Even after being handed to client after client... You... You remained defiant... So... I turned to your friend. I lowered her price, you see. I could console my records, if you'd like. I could tell you just how many virile clients of mine have used that mouth of hers..." Daro felt her sharp breaths coming through her nose, her lungs burning with fiery rage at Tidanya's words. The asari's iron grip on her throat kept Daro from moving, knowing that with a flick of her wrist and a slight concentration of biotic power, Tidanya could have Daro bleeding to death on the floor.

"You might be asking yourself why... Why would I do something like that? Why hurt poor little Kyta to hurt you, pet? It's very simple... This..."

Tidanya's other hand slowly drifted between Daro's legs, her five slender digits teasingly gliding along the sensitive flesh covered there.

"...Is mine."

Daro's breath caught in her throat as Tidanya's fingers probed and massaged between her legs, rage overtaking her and causing her to squirm and pull at the asari's arms fruitlessly.

"That's right... You're enjoying this, aren't you? I most certainly am. Look, your bitch is watching... How do think she would like it if I made you scream my name?"

Daro slowly raised her head to meet Kyta's weeping diamonds, feeling ice course through her veins at this indignity. She would not break. Neither of them would. Daro's glacial eyes met Tidanya's predatory smile, clenching her teeth to ignore the heat building in her abdomen.

"I'd rather choke on my own suit, bosh't-"

Daro felt two fingers press against the tight fabric and dig into her sensitive folds, her breath catching in her throat as Tidanya let out a laugh slick with venomous scorn.

"Such a mouth on you, pet. I can't wait to see what it can do. Waiting for this has been such agony, you know."

Tidanya's fingers slowly leave the gap between Daro's legs, her hand resting on the quarian's flushed abdomen, purring at the intense heat radiating there.

"Mmm... You must be soaked under that suit, pet. Maybe I'll make you clean it when we get home... With your tongue."

Daro seethed at the thought of performing such a debased act, wanting nothing more than to slaughter Tidanya and her guards and bathe the halls of this filthy pit with their blood. Tidanya slowly strutted over to Kyta, the bound quarian held up by the mangled mess of her broken arms, one hand tracing along the circular light of her voice modulator and pursing her lips. Daro stayed her hand, knowing full well she would be easily overpowered by the three in the room, and Tidanya's proximity to Kyta made her a viable target.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Such a shame that you had to suffer for your friend. Maybe I can see to it you receive a more agreeable client next time, if you'd like. Which anatomy do you prefer sliding down your throat, I wonder?"

Daro screamed, her hands clenched in fists quivering in impotent rage as she stared the asari down with eyes of silver fire.

"Leave her alone!"

Tidanya turned her icy gaze to meet Daro's silver flames, the navy organ of her tongue sliding along her black lips, leaving the soft flesh glistening with a predatory smile.

"Oooh... That's right, my little pet. Let it out. Scream. Soon, you'll be singing a much more pleasing aria. When I'm done breaking you, you'll be begging for more. I promise you that."

Tidanya left Kyta's side, once again prowling in a circle around the cell's inhabitants, that sinister predatory smile constantly spread across her black lips.

"As I said before, you are very special, my pet. It is so rare to find someone with that spark of greatness in them. That will. That strength. There is something truly sublime in watching that break. Watching the proud and the defiant crawling on their hands and knees, eager and obedient to my... desires. So rare. And yet, here it is, right in front of me."

Tidanya eventually circled to face Daro, one hand tracing along the metal edges of her visor before toying with the circular light of her voice modulator.

"And that is what I have planned for you, my sweet little pet. I will take you from this place and bring you into my home. You will be fed and given everything you need. It need not be an unpleasant life for you. I can think of many, many worse fates to befall your... delicious form. Provided, of course, that you serve me in every capacity you are capable of."

One finger touched Daro's shoulder, the digit languidly sliding along her shoulder blades as Tidanya circled her.

"And I promise, those capacities will be... tested. Thoroughly."

Tidanya was once again at Daro's front, her five-fingered alien hands raking along Daro's entire body, cupping her rear, sliding along the gap between her legs, fondling every inch she could get her slimy fingers on.

"Oh, yes... I daresay I am at a loss where to start..."

Daro felt her lips curl over her teeth as her gaze burned against Tidanya's, wishing Tidanya could see the teeth bared against her.

"Never. I am not your pet!"

Tidanya smiled that predatory grin, sending the very edges of her sinister painted face twisting.

"But you already are, pet. You already are..."

Tidanya let one finger drag along the underside of Daro's jaw, her black lips slowly parting as she watched the material wrinkle and creek with her movements.

"You see... You will submit to me and of your own volition."

Daro shook off Tidanya's finger, the asari slowly licking her lips as her hands clasped behind her back.

"I'm giving you a very simple choice, pet. Accept your place at last... Or..."

Tidanya prowled to Kyta's side, the quarian mewling in pain as Kiron forced her to stand up straight, her hand gripping the edges of her mask before turning to Daro.

"Your friend will have her suit stripped off of her, and I will drag her body from this place and watch as the vorcha use her as a chew toy."

Daro's eyes widened as panicked fear crash against her like a tidal wave. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that Tidanya would make good on her promise. Daro felt tears welling up in her eyes as she shook her head.

"No... No, please... She didn't... Please! She's innocent! She doesn't... Don't..."

Tidanya's black lips curled upwards ever so slightly as she paced around Daro, reveling in the choking sobs coming through her voice modulator.

"Why...?" Daro didn't understand the universe anymore. Her lot in life had always been difficult, but the cruelty she had endured over the past few weeks, and here, with Tidanya, was something she just couldn't fathom. "Look at her... She doesn't deserve this... Me... Do whatever you want to me... Not her..."

The asari let out a rich laugh at Daro's pleading voice, circling over to Kyta.

"Of course she doesn't. She doesn't deserve anything. She's nothing but a common whore. She is worthless to me. Just another figure in my records."

Tidanya quickly slithered to face Daro, holding her leather-clad form against the quarian so close that Daro can make out the scent of sweat and asari honey wine of only the finest make, a sweet, yet somehow sickly air as poisonous and rancid in it's undertone as it was succulent and enticing. Daro quietly cursed her inability to turn off her current suit's olfactory sensors.

"But you, my pet. You are a prize worth more than any of these common breed bitches."

Tidanya crooned downwards, her navy tongue sliding past her luscious black lips to drag along the tightly encased, sleek curves of Daro's form, a wet trail left along her curvaceous legs and supple thighs and heaving breasts.

"And I will make that prize mine."

Tidanya's words came in a soft tone, mocking the intimate and loving whispers of Kyta as she place a soft kiss on the light of Daro's voice modulator.

"And if I must break your friend to make you mine, pet, I will."

Tidanya twirled on one heeled boot, looking back to Kyta, that predatory smile flashing ivory teeth.

"But it doesn't have to be that way."

Tidanya turned back to Daro, gesturing to the open cell door.

"She can go free from here. She can go back to your filthy collection of derelict starships and live what remains of her worthless life."

Daro could feel her heart racing at the asari's words, madly ignoring the dread coursing through her as her lips sputtered out pleadingly.

"Y-You're lying..."

Tidanya let out a rich laugh, smooth like warm oil poured over well-worn leather.

"I would never lie to you, pet. Only truth between us. However, whether or not she goes free is indeed conditional. It is entirely up to you."

Tidanya let her tongue languidly slather her painted lips in saliva, her depraved lust evident in her tone.

"Beg. Beg to be my pet, my slave. Beg for me to take you and own you in every way. Beg to service me whenever I desire it. Beg, pet, and your friend will go free."

Daro stared up at the asari, her smile sending shivers down her spine. Everything about her was venomous and toxic, threatening to swallow the darkness of the room and devour it in her shadowed lips. It was maddening.

"You... y-you're crazy!" Daro sputtered, her words sounding weak even to herself.

Her tongue dancing over a barely concealed fang, Tidanya turned her gaze to Kiron, who still held Kyta by her oddly bent limbs, occasionally twitching in his grasp. Letting a mandible fall into a sick smile, he reached down for one of Kyta's fingers and slowly began pulling it back, eliciting another fit of hysteric screaming from her as more bones were strained to their snapping point.

"Stop! Stop hurting her!" Daro felt herself go limp, tears dropping down against her faceplate. Her eyes stung from the constant rain of tears she had experienced in the past few days. She had never felt more of a need to wipe them away.

"Please..."

Kiron slowly released the small digit clutched between his talons, Tidanya gazing over Daro triumphantly.

"I'll... I-I'll do anything... you want... just, please..." Daro's eyes stayed on the floor, unable to meet Kyta's gaze. "Don't hurt her anymore... please..."

Sliding her hands down Daro's arm, Tidanya snaked her way behind her once more, her hand never leaving Daro's suited body. Pressing her heeled sole against the back of Daro's knee, she forced the young quarian to kneel. Knowing the price of resistance, Daro didn't fight back, forcefully biting her own tongue to prevent herself from screaming out at the indignity she was resigning herself to. Looking at Kyta in her peripheral vision, unable to lay her eyes on her, the quarian reminded herself that it was for her. She couldn't bare to watch them hurt Kyta any more.

Pressing her thigh against Daro's helmet, Tidanya's slick tongue danced hungrily around her blackened lips, holding Daro's head in her hand, forcing it against her leg lustfully.

"Beg."

Daro stared at her visor as she was forcefully nestled into the asari's thigh, clenching her teeth as warm tears flowed down her cheeks. In spite of Tidanya's demand, Daro couldn't call the words to her lips, leaving her sputtering before Kyta shouted, her own choked, sobbing voice cutting through the cell.

"No! Daro! Please... You promised! You... You promised!"

Tidanya snarled, a primal sound that spoke of animalistic possessiveness, her hand flaring outwards with a nimbus of biotic witch light. Raw physical force collided with Kyta's helmeted head, the impact snapping her head to the side. Hardly a killing blow, just enough to get Kyta's attention. The asari's teeth were bared in a fierce glare that promised pain and agony for the bound quarian. Daro forced her head from Tidanya's grip, her tear-filled gaze shifting from Kyta to Tidanya. Three-fingered hands pawed at Tidanya, Daro begging and pleading with the asari.

"No, no, no! Please! Stop! Don't hurt her! I-I'll do what you want... Please... Stop!"

Tidanya looked down at the quarian kneeling at her feet, her breasts heaving with deep, luxurious breaths as her tongue slithered past her lacquered lips. The very sight of the silver stream of tears leaving Daro's eyes enough to ignite a depraved fire in her.

"Beg. Now."

Daro felt her lips quivering, as though the very muscles of her lips knew what indignity they would be forced to commit and defied it. Slowly, Daro forced her mouth open, forgetting how to breath for a brief moment as she felt Tidanya's ice-cold gaze stare into her soul. After what felt like an agonizing eternity, Daro felt the words slowly form on her lips.

"I-I... Please... I..."

Tidanya crooned her head to the side, as though straining to hear the quarian's words.

"What's that, pet? I'm not sure I can hear you. Pity. I thought migrant insects like yourself made fine beggars. It seems I was mistaken. Ah well, I hope your friend enjoys her dinner with the vorcha. Who knows? I might even let her stay the night in the varren pit. I wonder how long she'd last?"

Daro's eyes widened in dread as Tidanya practically shivered with delight.

"Oooh... I'm going to enjoy watching them rut her all night long..."

Daro felt her body heaving with sobs, trying to keep herself from hyperventilating long enough to speak clearly.

"Please... Please..."

"Lady Tidanya," whispered the asari, her words hanging in the air like noxious fumes.

Daro slowly rose her head to look up at the asari, blackened lips smiling at her tears.

"L-Lady Tidanya..."

Tidanya took a sharp inhale through her nose, letting her gloved hands slide up and down her leather-encased form as she let her words spill out in a husky breath.

"Say it again."

Daro felt her throat tighten as she swallowed before speaking.

"Lady Tidanya..."

Tidanya let out a sound that was something between a purr and a growl as her fingers came to the encased mounds of her breasts, toying with them as her tongue came free from her painted lips, the navy organ waving in the air, sleek with saliva.

"Say it. Feel it. Taste it. It is a flavor you will come to know well on your tongue, pet."

Daro felt her stomach twist in a not, the thought of Tidanya pleasuring herself at every second of her humiliation and suffering too much for the quarian pilgrim to bear. Steely resolve forced her to straighten her shoulders, staring Tidanya down from behind her visor. For Kyta. Anything for Kyta.

"Lady Tidanya."

Tidanya's barely concealed fang came down on her lower lip as she squeezed against her own sleek mounds, her eyelids slowly drifting shut as she let out a wanton moan. Heavy-lidded orbs of ice met Daro's silver stare, smiling with a grin Daro would expect from a thresher maw that just ensnared it's meal were they capable of it.

"Say it... as though you were speaking to her. As though I was your lover."

Daro felt her teeth clench in rage before her heart sunk. She couldn't fight. Not anymore. Not with Kyta's life at stake. As horrifying and shameful as it was, setting Kyta free was worth any price. Daro closed her eyes, calling that beautiful memory of their tender love into her voice, warping and perverting it with the name of the asari who now claimed her.

"Lady Tidanya..."

Tidanya's eyes seemed to radiate a cold light in the harsh crimson light of the cell, slowly taking step after step towards Daro until the quarian's covered face was level with the swell of her waist. One hand forced Daro's helmeted head to croon upwards, the defiant glare gone from her silver eyes.

"Beg me to give you the honor of servicing me. Beg me to let you sup from my body. Beg your Lady to let you serve as you were meant to."

"Please, Lady Tidanya... Let me have the honor of servicing you in whatever way my body can. I live only to please you and your desires."

Daro felt as though someone else had stepped inside her body and spoke with her tongue. She would never submit to this alien whore pretending at power. She would fight tooth and nail against this depraved insanity. She would strangle every one them with scraps of her suit is she had to.

One glance in Kyta's direction brought those thoughts crashing down. If she didn't submit, Kyta would suffer and die enduring more pain and horror than she deserved. Kyta was innocent. She didn't deserve any of this. Daro was a fool. She failed at everything her training had prepared her for. She was never worth anything. Her people didn't want her. She had no family. She had nothing. Always an outcast among the outcasts. This was all she deserved. If she had to finally accept that to see an innocent girl go free, then so be it.

Holding Daro's head to her thigh, Tidanya's eyes almost seemed to roll into the back of her head as she spoke, as if the words were a sweet drug causing her unimaginable ecstasy. "See?" she purred, her tongue almost hanging in the air, "You are a natural, pet."

Daro felt she should have been blind with rage. She felt she should feel the need to resist, to fight, to murder and slaughter. The only thought in her head was Kyta. Unable to meet her gaze, Daro glared at the floor, disgusted with herself, feeling utterly unworthy of every kind word the small girl had ever uttered to her. She felt utterly defeated. Kyta's heated sobs off to the side only brought more warm water cascading down her eyes. Her mind went blank, everything that was Daro'Xen gone from it, replaced by whatever perversion Tidanya had ordained her to become.

The asari's lips dripped with saliva as her smooth voice almost sang above Daro, "I will so enjoy taking you home tonight, pet. I've already made all the arrangements." Daro instantly felt sick to her stomach. This had always been Tidanya's intention. Turning her into a groveling animal. An object to be played with and used. Her chest heaved painfully, her sobs diminished to sickly choking. She didn't have the tears left to continue crying.

"First thing to be done, will be removing that atrocity on your skin, of course." Tidanya stroked Daro's helmeted head, forcing it to rest against her thigh like a varren begging for it's treat, petting her as though she had just performed an award winning routine. "And you'll be bathed and groomed. You'll want to look your best for me, won't you?" Daro's voice caught in her throat, Kyta's sobbing sending violent spasms down her spine.

Daro felt her heart sinking to somewhere even lower in her chest than it already felt. Was she really worth only this? A sick asari's personal plaything to be put on display for nothing more than amusement? Closing her eyes, she could still hear Kyta's broken breathing. It seemed to scratch into her skull, driving her mad as Tidanya went on.

"My estate has been prepared with clean rooms. You won't be needing a suit there, once you've adapted to me." Her speech was laced with sadistic longing. Her stroking of Daro's helmet seemed to become more enthusiastic. "You'll be well taken care of. Kept in only the cleanest condition. Fed adequately." She grabbed Daro's helmet and forced her to look at Kyta. "And she'll go home."

Daro's eyes darted over Kyta's collapsed form, her arms bent into odd angles behind her back, her chest heaving madly. Daro felt screaming murder in her head. Kyta was probably in shock, or going into it. She wasn't even sure if she was still conscious.

"H-how do I know you're telling the truth?" Daro's voice was hoarse, the sound of a course wind tearing through sand blasted plains, withered and hollow. She looked back up at the woman standing domineeringly over her. "You c-could just… just…" Daro didn't want to finish the sentence.

Tidanya ran a finger down Daro's mask, the nail etching against it audibly. "You know about biology, don't you?" Daro winced. If she'd been crawling around inside Kyta's skull, she knew everything she had ever said to her. It was a truly disturbing notion. "You know how the immuno-boosters we use work." The asari's oily gaze turned to Kyta. "Her immune system is going to give out soon enough. I can either dump her into the furnace…" Her gaze returned to Daro, her glistening lips curling into a smile that could give death pause.

"Or I use her as leverage. Either way, I have no further use for her."

Daro's eyes flicked back and forth between the smiling asari and the quarian woman twitching feebly in Kiron's vice-like grip. "A-and what about when she's h-home…? Then you don't have…" Daro's sentence once again never fully made it's way out of her throat, instead catching somewhere, unable to finish.

Tidanya grinned down at her knowingly, the corners of her mouth every bit as twisted as the sadist who wore them. "By then, I won't need it."

The asari sauntered over to where Kiron stood over Kyta, the leather shadows she wrapped herself in reflecting the harsh red light spilling in from the hallway.

"I will not need her, once you have learned a very important lesson." Tidanya casually rubbed her boot against Kyta's suited chest, wiping off a small smudge from her otherwise immaculate attire. She looked down at the small girl, her chest heaving as she lay crumpled in the dirt, giving no other indication that she was alive.

"Every creature has it's place. Every animal knows it." Tidanya looked back over to Daro, her lips still twisted into a revolting curve that sent chills down her spine. "The difference with sentient beings, is that they are not always accepting of their place. Some need to be…" Her boot rested lightly on Kyta's helmeted head. "…reminded, of their natural place in the order of things." She rolled her foot around, rubbing the small girl's mask in the dirt. "You want to serve me, pet. And your bitch wants to service every patron that enters this parlor." Tidanya's eyes narrowed, her gaze dangerous. "You just do not want to come to terms with it." Blue ice stabbed into Daro's heart, burning it with cold. "I will make you do so."

Daro couldn't breathe. Every gasp strained against the straps that wrapped around her chest. She was hyperventilating, wheezing from the need for air. She had no words. Her mind was utterly blank. She wanted the asari to understand she was wrong. She was wrong about everything. She was more than this. Kyta was certainly more than this. She wanted to scream. She wanted to reason. She wanted to kill. She wanted to weep.

She wanted to die.

Tidanya stared down at Kyta's heaving form, calmly playing with her helmeted head as if it were a ball. "You want to be my slave," Tidanya whispered, hushed honey laced with cyanide spewing from her lips. "You will do anything I tell you, and you will love it." She glanced sideways at Daro, her tongue licking a fang dangerously. Slowly, the violet proprietor of the brothel slide guilefully over to Daro, running her hand over her helmet.

"I hate you," Daro slowly rasped out, barely an audible whisper. She didn't know why she said it. Maybe it was because it was the only thing she could do, the only freedom she had left.

Until Tidanya found a way to take even that.

The asari calmly stroked the back of her helmet, running her hand over the back of her neck. "You don't hate me, pet," she whispered, her slithering tongue lathered in saliva as it hung in the air. "An animal can not comprehend such a thing."

Daro slowly curled into a ball, her arms wrapping around herself, unable to even move away from the constant petting for fear of Kyta's life.

"St-stop… calling me that!" Daro choked out, her throat feeling like she had swallowed razor blades. "I'm n-not an animal… I-I am… qu-quarian"

Tidanya's dripping tongue danced across the small receptors in Daro's helmet, her voice as soft as fresh sheets wrapped around serrated blades.

"You are whatever I say you are, because I am the one who holds power, pet."

Daro shivered uncontrollably. The asari was right. Daro couldn't do anything without Kyta coming to harm. If she gave Tidanya what she wanted, at least Kyta would have a chance. It was the best she could do.

It was all she could do.

Daro looked up at the cerulean shadow smiling grimly down at her. Silver drops slid down her face behind her mask, the shaking in every muscle making it hard to breathe.

"Wh-whatever you want…" Her fingers clawed, her throat tensed, and her eyes slammed shut. Despite the strain, she managed to sputter the remainder of her sentence, her voice grating against her swollen trachea.

"Just l-let Kyta g-go home… please…"

Tidanya ran her finger down Daro's mask sensually, eventually cupping her chin.

"I've made all the necessary arrangements. She will be home tonight, as will you."

The asari's hand trailed down to Daro's shoulder, and grabbing it, almost tenderly rolled the convulsing woman onto her back. Moving with deft guile, Tidanya slide her shadowy form over Daro's, straddling her and pinning her arms to the floor. Looking over to the two guards standing to the side, she nodded and motioned for them to take their places. Kneeling down, each guard took a firm grasp of Daro's shaking wrists, holding her down.

"Until then, however, a taste…" Tidanya crawled up to be level with Daro's mask, her hands reaching for either side of her helmet, "…of the rest of your life."

Daro's eyes widened as realization hit her like a cargo freighter. Gathering what strength she had left, she pulled against the strong hands holding her to the floor. "Wait," she choked, "don-"

"Embrace Eternity!"

Daro'Xen disappeared. There was no thought. No personality. No reaction. There was nothing against the cascading tidal wave of pain that burned itself into every single nerve in her body. Every neuron fired, every synapse burned. Images danced in Daro's head, smells and sounds long forgotten, feelings and emotions and thoughts she never thought she might experience again. Everything burned with oily shadows, a smoky haze obscuring every image, the pain from resisting the mental bonding overwhelming her in a flood of feeling that could only be described as unbridled agony.

She was a child, being pushed to the ground by an older boy.

She was a teenager, downloading music to her suit's audio receptors.

She was training for Pilgrimage, her combat instructor on the ground after a successful sweeping kick.

The images became more intense, more focused. They seemed to sicken and darken despite the added clarity.

Daro was wrapped in her cloths, leaning against the wall in her cubicle lazily. Shen was sleeping on the floor, a vid game controller laying loosely in his hand. A leather boot came crashing down on his head, shattering it like glass.

Reaching for the outstretched rifle, Daro took it from her captain's hands. It had belonged to her father. He had modded it with tender love and care for the day his daughter embarked on her Pilgrimage. It would keep her safe, be the sword that brought her home to him, safe and sound. She shed a tear, wishing it was him giving it to her. The weapon turned to dust in her hands, slick, sadistic laughter ringing in her ears.

Daro undid the crate's clasps, the small box opening with a hiss. Gently, she pulled out her mother's armor, passed through the generations. Running a gloved hand over the smooth metal, she felt a sense of longing well in her chest. This metal had been forged on the home world. The inner components had been upgraded and replaced for nearly three hundred and fifty years, and it was finally hers. Feeling a hand rest on her shoulder, Daro turned to see Shen standing there, looking into her mask. With a nod, he helped her clasp the ornate metal to her suit. The last piece locking into place, the suit burst into flames, the cinders choking Daro as cerulean eyes stared mockingly at her amidst a sea of orange fire.

"STOP!"

Daro felt the connection sever, every part of her body feeling utterly dead to her. She was sobbing hysterically, only now aware she had been screaming in agony. Lady Tidanya looked down at her, panting, but smiling with intoxication. "So resilient…" she uttered. "So… strong…"

Her hands reached up once more for Daro's mask.

"No!" Daro shouted amidst the heaving sobs. "Please… don't…" Her chest pushed against the bindings, making it difficult to breathe. She pulled desperately in an attempt to break free from the hands holding her down, but found no purchase. Tidanya pressed a finger to her mouthpiece, whispering hungrily, hushing the thrashing quarian.

"Don't worry, pet…" Her eyes seemed to burn into Daro, empty black taking them once more. "…soon, every memory, every thought will be mine. I will own every part of you." Her fingers reached for the approximation of Daro's temples.

"No! Stop!" Daro tried to pull away, screeching in the last tool of defense she had left. "Y-you're killing me!"

Tidanya smiled, her tongue lashing out at Daro's mouthpiece.

"You'll learn to love the pain…"

Daro could feel the asari creeping into her nerves, beginning to crawl into her skull once more.

"…you won't have a choice."

Daro shook her head violently, trying to edge away. "No. No! NO!"

"Embrace Eternity!"

White hot fire scorched into Daro'Xen's nervous system like a star going supernova. Once more, every part of her was alive with pain, images passing in a rapid burst through her brain, most too fast to keep up with, some lingering longer.

Her hands moved deftly over the stuffed animal's anatomy, peeling away at it. Daro smiled inside as she thought of showing her parents. They would be so proud of her. She wanted to be just like them. She loved them so much. The small object turned to ash in her hands.

Daro tossed the practice knife in the air with a flourish. Bringing it down effortlessly, she slid it harmlessly against Shen's neck armor. His stance showed annoyed amusement. He chuckled, a smile in his laughter that brought a grin to her lips. She laughed playfully as his own knife burrowed into her chest, slicing into her heart and digging all the way to her spine.

Laying in the dunes, Daro hugged Jason from behind, staring up into the stars as he shook in her arms. Soon. Soon they would leave, and they'd travel those stars. It would be just them, going to new places, meeting new people, taking on the world and whatever it threw at them together. The sands turning to smoke, Jason slid from her grasp, a sense of perpetual falling added to the intense scorching of her nerves. Somewhere in the darkness, an asari was smiling down at her.

"KILL ME!"

Daro once more came to what was left of her senses. Again, she was only barely aware she was screaming. Shaking, her entire body heaved with pained sobs as Tidanya retreated from her assault. Reaching down, the asari grabbed Daro by the straps holding her suit to her, pulling her up to her. With the other hand, she brutally slammed her fist into the helmet, sending Daro back to the floor.

"Your life is mine to do with as I please." Again, she slammed a fist into Daro's helmeted head, sending her barely conscious mind reeling. "Do not assume to demand what I do with it." Tidanya's cool demeanor was replaced by a panting, disheveled one, her teeth shining in the crimson lighting.

Daro tugged instinctually at the grips holding her arms down. She looked over at Kiron and Kyta, still on the floor, unmoving.

"Please… I can't take any m-more…"

There was no pride. Daro was no longer a proud daughter of the fleet. She was no longer a quarian or a person. She was not strong or in control. She was in pain. She was lost.

She was whatever Tidanya demanded she be.

"P-please… I'll do anything you want… Just… n-no more… I'm g-going to die…"

The asari grinned down at her sadistically, her eyes wide, fangs bared.

"You will do anything I want. I already know this. And if you die serving my desires…" She licked Daro's face plate hungrily. "…then you will have died for a cause more worthy than you. This is your life, pet. This is your meaning. I will have you. All of you. Every thought. Every memory. I will make your mind my own. I will have you for my own." She reached for the sides of Daro's mask once more, her arbitrarily coherent rambling scratching at Daro's ears like knives.

"You do not have a choice."

Daro looked up to the human and turian holding her down, staring them in the eyes in turn.

"Stop… please…"

Daro's broken voice held nothing in it. She was exhausted. She had endured past her limit. Whatever broken mess of flesh lying on the floor of the brothel was not Daro'Xen. This was a shell that feigned a proud Migrant warrior's face. Whatever neurons in her brain that fired in the manner appropriate to let her continue speaking were likely doing so purely out of instinct. Daro had no indication of where she was or how she got there.

The only thing she knew was that she wanted the pain to stop.

Cerulean orbs burned into her like blue fire. It took only one look to see the truth. Tidanya wouldn't stop. She'd never stop. She was telling the truth.

This would be Daro'Xen's future. Forever.

Daro stared into her eyes, doing everything she could to try and make her understand with a simple look that she was in pain, to make her see what she was doing was wrong. A desperate final hope of a dying woman. Daro slowly let her head fall to the side to see Kyta, still barely moving. Tidanya grabbed her helmet in her hands once more. Daro wanted to protest and scream, but she had nothing left. Warm water fell down her cheeks as the tingling in her nerves once more turned to white hot agony.

"Please… s-someone… h-help me… d-don't… c-c-can't… " Tidanya's eyes turned black. "NO!"

"Embrace eternity!"

Pain.

Cerulean eyes stared into her, ice cold and deadly.

A tongue slid over sharp, slick teeth.

Leathery shadows slowly slid off to reveal deep blue skin.

More pain.

Daro scratches at here new mask, the tears tickling her cheeks. Her father holds her hands, stopping her. He reaches for the clasps under his chin, and slowly removes the piece of glass with a hiss. His lips are a warm smile, and Daro can feel her heart melting. The room turns to oil as his face twists and contorts into the deathly visage of an asari, her lips slick with cold disdain.

Kyta screams in agony, her mouth dry from being unable to close her lips. She heaves against Daro's embrace before finally falling back into a convulsing slumber. Daro's rage turns to lust as her hands slide down the woman's chest, over her legs, and to the meeting of her thighs. Waking, Kyta looks up at her in terror and screams, kicking and flailing in her attempts to get away from Daro. Daro's hand is no longer three fingered, five blue digits dance at the end of her arm, reaching for the retreating quarian.

Screaming.

Kyta lays on the floor, bruised and beaten. Daro laughs sadistically as Kiron finishes putting the last lock into place, securing the small girl's arms behind her back. Despite being little more than a broken mess, she still manages to thrash wildly. Nodding in approval, Daro turns to leave. Halting half way to the door, she turns around and sends a final wave of biotic energy at the small girl, tossing her like a rag doll into the wall. Finally collapsing, Kyta doesn't get up. Daro and Kiron leave her to consider her disobedience and her punishment. Daro smiles, her tongue lashing playfully against her lips.

Louder screaming.

Images fly faster and faster around Daro's skull. Images burn into her psyche, not all of which seem to be hers. She doesn't understand. There is only confusion amidst the pain. She wants to scream. She needs to scream.

Daro couldn't feel her body. She was a ghost inside her own mind. Black lips grinned at her. Cerulean eyes went black with lust. Everything hurt.

Screaming.

White hot fire.

Louder screaming.

Daro felt herself rising, as though from being submerged in ice cold water for entirely too long.

Pained and frenzied screaming, accompanied by furious shouting.

Daro woke up.

Nothing was holding her down anymore.

There was commotion.

Finally finding the strength to move from some deep part of herself she never knew existed, Daro lifted her head. Her eyes went wide.

Kyta was on top of Tidanya, her arms a mangled mess, but it didn't seem to be slowing her down. She was beating her helmeted head into Tidanya's face, over and over again. Violet blood gushed in jets of gore against the walls. Kyta's assault was utterly relentless, the asari slaver screaming in agony beneath her, clearly not fully recovered from her own assaults into Daro's mind. The three other guards in the room worked desperately to get the thrashing quarian off of their employer, with varying degrees of success.

Her visor finally cracking and shattering under the merciless onslaught, Kyta flung the broken shards of glass from her mask with a snapping twist of her head. Screaming, she continued hammering away at the asari, shards of glass becoming visibly imbedded in the woman's face. Daro was horrified at what Kyta was doing to her own face to lash out at her attacker.

Daro forced her weary limbs to life as she stumbled towards Kyta, shakily trying to force the quarian off of Tidanya before being swatted to the side by a stray blow from one of the guards. Daro collapsed onto the ground, feeling pain suffusing itself into every inch of her body as she weakly held her hand out to Kyta.

"S-Stop... Kyta... Please..."

Daro's pleas fell on ears left deaf in their frenzy, Kyta beating Tidanya's face ceaselessly with her helmeted head. The silver stars of her eyes burned like supernovas made of pure white light, rage and hate fueling every screaming blow against the asari beneath her. Kyta's teeth were bared, screaming as she bit into the cerulean flesh of Tidanya's cheek. A wet tear was audible over the asari's agonized screams, violet gore gushing and frothing forth from the gap torn in her face. Kyta spat the glob of bloody flesh from her mouth, lips painted a deep violet in the asari's blood as she continued her unrelenting assault.

One guard finally managed to hook an arm around Kyta's neck, the other trying to twist her mangled arms as leverage while Kiron wrapped his arms her waist, their combined effort tearing the thrashing quarian off of their employer. Kyta screamed in furious rage, thrashing and kicking and biting at the guards while they beat her mercilessly. Kyta would not relent, diving back towards Tidanya and slipping from their grasp only to be grappled and wrestled back to the ground again.

"ENOUGH!"

The razor-sharp voice of the asari cracked as she let loose a wave of biotic power, the witch light blasting both Kyta and the guards to the ground with unbelievable force. Slowly, Tidanya crawled to her feet, spitting a jet of blood from her ragged lips along with a handful of teeth, the gaps visible through the torn hole in her cheek. Kyta recovered before the guards did, leaping to her feet and balancing on her two toes, snarling with rage as she pounced like the ancient jungle cats of Rannoch. Tidanya's hand came forward, a biotically-charged backhand smashing Kyta to the side.

Tidanya bared her teeth, ivory fangs cracked and streaked with blood as she screamed at Kyta's mangled and broken form.

"Whore! Slut! Bitch! Look at what you have done! I'll kill you! I will make you suffer in more ways than your feeble mind can understand! I'll put you down like the bitch you are!"

Tidanya screamed at the guards, beating Kiron with a quivering fist as she pointed to Kyta.

"Take her! Get her out of my sight! Get a doctor! Now! Take her to the room!"

The guards attempting to drag Kyta away, the quarian girl thrashing and screaming against their armor-clad grasp in a frenzy. Daro pulled herself up from the dirt, propping herself up on her hands before Tidanya brought her heel down on Daro's helmet, grinding the metal visor into the concrete floor.

"Your bitch has sealed her own fate. Pray her screams sate me."

Tidanya turned on her sharp heel, striding out of the cell in a vainglorious attempt to keep her composure. The guards struggled as they tried to drag Kyta from the cell, her silver eyes weeping as she turned to face Daro's prostrate form. Their eyes met for but a moment, but it was a moment that seemed to last an eternity. She was beautiful, even as they dragged her away screaming.

"I love you, Daro!"

The harsh groan of steel shut away the crimson light of the brothel, leaving Daro in the darkness, hearing Kyta's screams echo from the halls and into the fractured corners of her own mind. Every ounce of Daro's body felt numb as she heard the guards laughing at Kyta's pain. Tidanya barked muffled orders over the faint sound of tearing fabric. Love screamed her name, beaten and violated as it was dragged through the halls of a hell built by the mind of a creature so foul there were no words to describe it.

It was over. There was no hope left. Tidanya had taken from her everything. Her name. Her memories. Her being. Kyta. Even the jagged sliver of metal that Daro wished she could slice into her veins and end it all forever. The darkness around her seemed to draw closer, consuming and devouring all in it's path as it reached Daro, the broken quarian wishing it would swallow her as well.

Daro closed her eyes, waiting for oblivion.

Slowly, an image formed in her mind. Green fields stretched across a golden horizon. The windswept trees swaying in the distance. The crash of the shining sea on the white shores. A calm sky painted the myriad colors of dawn. An orange sun shining warmth and beauty over everything she surveyed. Daro felt a warm tear slide down her cheek before it was brushed away by another elegant three-fingered hand.

Daro turned to meet Kyta's brilliant starry eyes, even more radiant without the viridian mask keeping them apart.

Blood bathes planets, washing away entire species' in Daro's wake.

Kyta's soft lips smiled at Daro, her hand resting reassuringly on Daro's cheek.

Skies burn and rain atomic fire, scorching all life away until all that is left is ash.

Her thumb idly caressed Daro's cheek, bringing her lips closer to Daro's.

They scream her name, all the countless trillions begging for her mercy.

Kyta whispers something and Daro feels her heart melt as their lips on barely touch.

Daro stands triumphant over the mountains of dead, blood soaking her and fueling her undying hate.

Daro's lips meet Kyta's, soft and loving in their tenderness.

Daro sinks her blade deep into Tidanya's heart. Into Kiron's. Into Jason's. Into her own.

Daro'Xen awakens.

Her silver eyes slowly opened, feeling burning hate coursing through her veins, weary limbs and broken bones ignoring their pain as Daro dragged herself to her feet. Everything seemed sharper. More defined. She could hear Kyta's screams echoing through the halls. She could hear the slapping sound of flesh on flesh over her begging cries. She could hear Kyta calling her name.

Daro felt her fists clench, trembling with barely contained fury as a torrent of gore-strewn images flooded her mind. Pain. Death. Blood. White-hot hate forced Daro's heart to race, breathing heaving lungfuls of air before screaming. Daro's banshee wail echoed through the deep halls like a winter gale calling for the death of the world around it. She wanted them to hear her. She wanted them to know that death was waiting for them.

Daro paced within the confines of her cell, snarling and growling at invisible enemies as her mind raced with sadistic visions of painful death for the beasts holding Kyta. Her fist made contact with the concrete wall, rage blinding her to the pain. All at once, a flash of mad genius came upon Daro, laughing hysterically at her own foolishness of not attempting it sooner.

The intravenous system was a durable device in and of itself, but the arm it was connected to was not. If she could damage her arm in just the right way, the system might be jarred loose enough to render the needle useless.

Daro's silver eyes gleamed as she smiled at the unyielding concrete wall, letting her arm hang limp as she brought it smashing against the stone. There was no pain. Kyta had endured worse. What right did Daro have to cry? Her arm came smashing against the wall again, feeling nothing but rage as she heard Kyta's screams echo so far away from her. Again. Again. Again.

With one final crushing blow, Daro felt something snap in her arm. The quarian's other hand examined the battered limb with practiced motions, feeling the dislocation in her elbow. Daro stared at the rusted metal door of her cell with a gaze so full of hate and rage that it was a wonder the metal wasn't instantly reduced to it's composite atoms before pulling the limb loose from the joint with a sickening pop.

Raising her arm over her head, Daro gripped the limp wrist tightly, twisting her forearm at an unnatural angle that warped and stretched the muscles of her joints in ways they were never meant to. Daro pulled and twisted, closing her eyes and focusing on the small pinprick in her arm that she recognized as the needle stabbed into the sore flesh of her veins.

There. Daro felt something give in her arm, the small needle bending and breaking off into her flesh. Daro breathed a deep sigh as she let her arm hang loose to the side, her hand resting on her forearm, the limb twitching and spasming in signals of pain that never reached Daro's brain. Kyta's agonized scream pierced the air before it was suddenly muffled into a whimpering moan. Daro clenched her teeth as she stared at the door to her cell, pushing the wrenched limb back into it's joint and bending and twisting it to test it's dexterity. Stiff, but it would serve.

She was ready. The drugs that were automatically dispensed into her blood were potent, but fast acting and didn't last long. Soon, someone would come for her, and she'd be waiting. She wouldn't be slowed or weakened. In their hubris, they hadn't even left her bound. Daro's fingers clenched and unclenched in anticipation. She was going to make them all bleed and scream. They'd never know it was her. Letting her mind focus, she quietly went over every skill and fight she had ever been in, pooling it all together for this one moment. Unlike before with Jason, she would not be caught off guard. It would be them who weren't expecting it this time.

Daro paced in the shadows of her cell, watching the door with the same intensity one would expect from a predator examining the fresh bloodied meal it had captured. Daro stopped in the center of the cell, every single last atom of her body tensing like a coiled spring, ready to act with unparalleled violence towards even the slightest provocation. Daro's fists clenched, her eyes narrowed.

When that door opened, death would step through it.


	8. Broken

The syringe fell to the floor with a hollow sound of glass on stone. Rioda bent down to pick up the metallic cylinder, giving the plunger and the glass tube a cursory examination. The immuno-boosters provided by Tidanya weren't exactly expensive, but a proper level of care was called for in spite of the salarian's drab surroundings. The merchandise was only useful if it lasted long enough to turn a profit. Examining the glass tube, the salarian idly measured the contents of the syringe as he came to the rusted metal door of his patient's cell, thinking on the numerous other appointments he had today. The drell in cell one needed her lung treatment for the week, Kepral's Syndrome finally taking hold. The turian in cell eleven was showing signs of scale itch, and would either need to be treated or marked down. The batarian in cell four tried to claw her eyes out again, and something had breached the volus' suit in cell nine. Another busy day. Rioda fumbled with the various vials and containers he would need for the day as he brought up his omni-tool and sent the proper security clearance to the cell door's locking mechanism. He didn't even bother with calling a guard. After the damage Tidanya had reportedly done to his current patient, she likely wouldn't be able to even stand on her own. Anyone who spent a few hours with Tidanya usually had a hard time even speaking coherently for a week afterward.

Crimson light bathed Xen as the door opened with a shrill shrieking sound, the salarian fumbling with the syringe as he stepped through the threshold into her cell. The last mistake he would ever make.

Xen's movements were liquid lightning, moving with vicious precision as one arm hooked under one of the alien's frail limbs, his screams muffled as one three-fingered hand closed over the narrow slit of his mouth, snapping the arm in two with one swift crack. The metallic cylinder of the syringe fell to the floor along with the various other vials bundled together in his arms as Xen pulled the salarian into the abyssal darkness of the cell. The quarian took a powerful grip of his tendrils and slamming his face against the stone wall once, twice, then brought her powerful leg down in a kick to the back of his knee. The salarian dropped to the floor, spitting emerald blood with a groan as Xen scrambled for the syringe. Fumbling in the harsh lighting, her sore fingers found the small instrument, taking it and stabbing the needle through one bulging eye. Pressing down on the pneumatic plunger, she emptied the high strength dextro-based immuno-boosters into his brain.

Tossing the vial to the side, Xen flexed her fingers. It felt good. She could see clearly again. She could move without the feeling of being weighed down by drugs. Everything hurt, but it didn't matter. Pain had finally reached a threshold where it became less an enemy and more a state of being. She was in so much agony that anything more didn't even register.

Xen crouched low as she stepped away from the limp and useless corpse of the salarian, eyeing the yawning doorway into the halls of the brothel with eyes of silvery white fire. Kyta's screams had silenced an hour ago. Xen could not be sure where they kept her within the deep halls of the brothel, but nothing was going to stop her now. She was too close. She would drown in her own blood within the confines of this blasphemous suit before she left without Kyta. Dragging the salarian's body into the shadows, Xen's hands roamed across his form, searching his pockets for anything of use. Xen slowly peeled the metal wireframe that made up the salarian's omni-tool from his limp arm, rearranging and reattaching the frame onto her left arm. Pulling a folded pistol along with it's magnetic clasp from the alien's belt, Xen examined the weapon briefly before slowly stalking to the threshold of the cell and gazing out into the hall from behind the cover of the walls. On Omega, it seemed even the most unassuming salarian doctor was armed. It would work to her advantage.

The bare concrete halls were empty, shadows consuming entire swaths of the brothel between the crimson bulbs. Foolish aliens. The insufficient lighting was the perfect tool for Xen to ensure a stealthy passage. The hubris of her would-be captors was astounding. They even were so vain to not assign a guard to the doctor. Neglect would be a powerful ally to the quarian. Xen prowled from the darkness of her cell, sending a signal from her newly-acquired omni-tool and sealing the door behind her as she slithered into the shadows of the dimly lit hall. The omni-tool flared to life as she moved her hands through the haptic interface of the holographic device, synching with her suit's controls and polarizing the surface of her visor, granting her optimal stealth ability. Xen holstered the compact pistol to the magnetic clasp she had taken from the salarian's body. Firearms would be of no use to her. They were too loud. She still had the element of surprise.

Xen moved through the halls, sliding from shadow to shadow, a hunter within a cage of iron and stone, fresh meat moving haplessly oblivious to the beast stalking their domain. The guards moved either alone or in pairs, the quarian finding more and more of them as she moved deeper into the structure. It would be child's play to gut one and strangle the other with his friend's intestines, but it would not help her find Kyta. Xen heard shuffling further down the hall behind her, the telltale armored footsteps of a guard heralding his unwitting approach. The quarian darted for the nearest cell, sending a code from the salarian's omni-tool to open the door. Xen wove her way inside, melting into the shadows by the doorway as she caught sight of a drell shackled by her ankle against the wall. Her skin was a multicolored shade of burnished orange, flowing and melting across her scales in shades of amber and saffron. She wore strands of translucent blue fabric, tied and wrapped around her most intimate areas, designed to leave only very little to the imagination. Golden piercings decorated the colorful patterns streaking along her ridges, shining in the half-light of the opened doorway. No doubt she was popular. Drell were even more exotic than the rare quarians. Her dark eyes opened languidly, orange irises with flecks of gold burning in her dark orbs, blinking away sleep as she looked up at Xen with confusion. The quarian brought one finger up to her voice modulator, gesturing for silence from the drell as the heavy footfalls of the guard came closer.

Xen heard the heavy armored boots come to a halt before rushing over to the entrance of the cell, a domineering shadow falling over the drell as a flanged voice belonging to a turian sneered at the chained woman.

"...The fuck?"

Xen felt her bitter heart grow cold. It wasn't Kiron. She was disappointed.

The turian stepped forward, mandibles flared as the drell curled her scaled body up against the wall of her cell in wide-eyed fear. The guard's taloned hand reached for the pistol at his side as his eyes warily searched the shadows before him. Xen slowly slid from the wall, crouching low as she stalked behind him, twin toes balancing the whole of her body weight as her hands reached towards the back of his head.

"Wher-!"

The turian's last words were silenced in Xen's iron grip, muscles regaining their new hate-fueled strength and twisting his neck until his skull flopped on the thick flesh of his neck, nearly in reverse. Xen's hands immediately moved to catch the limp corpse from beneath his arms, the chained drell covering her mouth at the sight of his drooped mandibles and loose, serpentine tongue. The turian's body vanished in the shadows of the cell, consumed in the darkness along with Xen. Laying him on the ground, Xen gripped his limp head by the fringe, twisting it to stare into his eyes. She recognized him. One of the guards who held her down when Tidanya had infiltrated her mind. Pity. A quick death was too much a mercy for him.

The metallic rattle of chains on the stone floor snapped Xen from her morbid imaginings, turning her cold gaze to see the drell slowly crawling forward, strangely-shaped hands quivering as she spoke with a raspy voice.

"W-What have you done...?"

The drell's orange-scaled hands pulled at the turian's limp skull, rearranging and twisting the broken fragments that remained of his neck plates as she childishly attempted to put him back together. Her dark eyes were wide with fear, the drell turning to Xen, stammering as she attempted to regain control of her quivering limbs.

"They'll k-kill us... They'll kill us... They'll kill us f-for this..."

Xen's hands reach for either side of the panicking drell's face, the reptilian woman silencing as she met razor-sharp diamonds of ice staring deep into her.

"What is your name?"

The drell seems to forget how to speak, her orange-rimmed eyes darting back and forth along the polished surface of the quarian's visor.

"I... Sh-Shakki..."

Xen did not know the name, but she had recognized the face. Shakki had been shackled out in the halls, waiting for a client when Tidanya had first dragged Xen into this hell of her sick design. Drell were a rare species and this Shakki was exceptional in her own way. Colorful. Xen's eyes roamed over her barely concealed form, boiling bile rising in her throat at the sight of the stained and whorish garb she was forced to wear. Visions of burning Tidanya alive, flames licking at her bare violet flesh and watching as her skin split and peeled filled Xen's mind. Blood boiling inside her veins and smoke pouring into her lungs like necrotic poison, screaming and begging for mercy that would never come. All the while, Xen's cold eyes watched, hungering for the flesh of the asar-

Xen's nightmarish visions of vengeance were broken as Shakki moved her face from the nest of Xen's three-fingered hands, the quarian suddenly aware of her own hands' shaking. The quarian gripped her hands together, forcing them to halt their erratic movement as she met Shakki's frightened gaze with her own cold stare.

"Xen. Daro'Xen nar Khalos."

The drell softly repeated the name as Xen's hands roamed along the guard's armored body, pulling a turian talon from the guard's side. The alien blade, curved and serrated, was of inferior design to the sacred pilgrim's blade she had received upon leaving the Flotilla, but it would serve. Xen brought the razor-edge to the translucent orange cloth wrapped around the mockery of a suit she wore, ripping and tearing the whorish cloth from her body. Xen felt as though a planet had been lifted from her shoulders. It was liberating.

Xen threw the ragged scraps of cheap cloth away into the shadow, letting them drift onto the guard's body in some form of morbidly ironic burial robe as she turned her icy gaze to Shakki. "I'm going to kill every single one of these animals, Shakki. And we'll all go free. Do you know how to use a gun?"

The drell sputtered, unsure of her answer as Xen pulled a pistol from the guard's side and pressed it into the drell's hands, demonstrating the basic method behind operating the firearm. Safety. Folding, unfolding, and when it was ready to be fired. "Point. Aim. Squeeze. Don't pull. This isn't a vid."

The drell seemed to regain her bearing as she stared at the pistol, Xen examining the lock of her shackles. Electronic. Fools. Xen brought her omni-tool to bear, cycling through the haptic interface and disengaging the seal on the shackles' lock, releasing the harsh metal from it's grip on Shakki's ankle. The drell whispered as Xen moved like a liquid shadow blending into the darkness of the cell, staring out past her stealthy cover into the dimly-lit halls.

"What... How are we getting out of here? There are only two of us." Shakki did a double take. "How did you get out of your cell?"

Xen ignored the question, turning her icy gaze passed along row after row of cell doors lining the halls, a cruel smile that could stop hearts with it's cold-blooded malice stretching across her lips.

"Stay close," was Xen's only reply, a hollow and cold whisper in windless wind that was every bit as dead as the turian laying at their feet.

Xen gestured for Shakki to follow as she prowled out into the halls, idly wondering at the absence of patrols through this area. Clearly, Tidanya's rage at Kyta's actions were keeping the guards busy elsewhere. The hubris of these aliens was astonishing. Xen hugged the wall as she moved along each cell door, stopping at a random rusted door and sliding open the shudder used to deposit food. A woman sat in the shadows, her features indistinguishable in the darkness. Xen sent the security code into the cell door's locking mechanism, a vicious snarl meeting the screeching sound of the door sliding open.

Chains rattled as they were pulled on, securely fastening the wrists of a batarian female to the wall of the cell. Her skin was dark, even for her species, bistre flesh shining with a fresh sheen of sweat. Black hair hung over her four eyes, piercing and vicious as she snarled through a mouth of needle-like teeth. Deep scars ran downwards across her black eyes, fresh wounds still carrying the telltale gleam of dark red gore intermingled with the pale scar tissue of older wounds. Scars ran across her bare skin, flimsy rags barely concealing the pale lines that decorated her toned and muscular form. Whatever sick fantasies this woman was forced to play out no doubt had very little to do with her pleasure. The batarian let loose another snarl, thrashing against her chains until her four onyx gems met Xen's shards of ice, her ragged and demanding voice dropping to a conspiring whisper. "Who are you? What are you doing? Where are the guards?"

Xen's eyes dart from the chained batarian further down the crimson halls, pulling Shakki inside the shadows with her as she slid along the walls in the cover of darkness and coming to her knees before the batarian. "We're leaving. All of us."

The batarian's black eyes seemed to ignite with their own cruel mirth as she smiled back at Xen. "I like you already. Gevilla."

Xen moved quickly through the haptic interface, the electronic locks of Gevilla's shackles disengaging and letting the batarian's weary arms fall to the floor. "Daro'Xen."

Gevilla slowly stood upright, a hollow pop sounding from each of her joints as she smiled at Xen, a heartless expression promising only sadistic retribution.

"See any humans, leave them for me..."

Shakki's quivering voice picked up within the darkness as her orange-rimmed eyes slowly moved along the batarian woman's scarred form. "W-What did they do to y-you? S-So many..."

Gevilla made no effort to hide the deep grooves of pale scar tissue, a futile effort regardless considering the simple rags covering her bare skin.

"You'd be surprised how rough people like to play with batarians. Damn humans."

Xen silently brought a fist upwards, gesturing for silence from the group as she faintly heard the sound of approaching footsteps, armored footfalls struggling as they moved through the halls. The quarian's command was a whispered order, uncompromising as she melted into the shadows of the cell. "Guards. Take cover."

The trio vanished in the shadows of the open cell, Shakki huddled behind Gevilla on one side of the open doorway and Xen gripping the talon with the patience of a hunter on the other. The guards were batarian by the sound of their hollering voices, shouting as they struggled to drag a pair of identical turians. Twins from the look of it. A rarity among their species. Their grey plates were cracked in various places, cobalt gore dripping from various wounds no doubt received from the guards. Xen's eyes narrowed on the sneering guards with an icy gaze, waiting patiently for them to move closer. One of the sisters was shouting. "Let us go! You bastards! Let us g-"

One of the guards' hands shot forward from his vice-like grip on the other sister, delivering an armor-plated backhand as he spat on the other. "Shut up, you fucking clacker. Don't think I won't give you to your mutual friend with a broken arm."

Xen stepped out from the darkness, silver eyes burning with the cold light of dead stars, her wicked blade gleaming in the crimson light. The guards stopped, wrenching the limbs of the turians' as they looked at each other with bewildered expressions before understanding finally dawned on them. Xen was upon them before their hands even neared their weapons, the quarian's superior martial training taking over and directing every precise movement she made. The turian talon slid between the narrow gap in one of the guard's armor, piercing the flesh just beneath the armpit and rending the thick veins there in a gout of dark red blood. Xen twirled the serrated blade in one hands, taking a reverse grip on the blade as she brought it along the throat of the other batarian, the flesh of his neck tearing open in a fountain of blood, the arterial fluid almost black in the mechanical crimson twilight.

Xen felt the splash of blood hit her visor, gore spurting from the throat of the batarian as he choked out his last dying gasps meeting her cold eyes. The quarian slowly rose from her combative stance, kicking away the scrambling grip of the dying batarian from her ankle and turning to meet the awe-inspired gaze of the twin turians. The paint worn on their face was bizarre, matching no design Xen had ever seen before meeting Tidanya, likely signifying it as another brand of the asari's. Either turian only had one side of their faces painted, left on one and right on the other, swirling and artistic patterns of black ink, clearly meant to mark them in the same manner as the whore who dared own them. Various piercing of silver and gold hung on the plates of their mandibles and fringes, cheap jewelry marking them as surely as the paint and translucent red clothing they were wrapped in. One of the twins stepped forward, a taloned hand forcing the other behind her as she spoke.

"Thank you... Who are you?"

Xen's hands quickly moved along the armored corpses of the batarians, pulling a pair of pistols from either guard and pressing them into the hands of the turian. "Xen. I trust you know how to handle those," she said with a calm, but edged slant to her words. It was fortunate they were turian. They would know how to fight.

The first of the twins took the pistols and gave them a cursory glance before handing one to her sister, still cowering behind her twin. She gestured toward her meek sibling as the others slowly left the darkness of the cell behind Xen.

"Rixi. I'm Varnal. There are only three of you?"

Gevilla stepped forward, almost hesitant to cross paths with Xen as she circled by the quarian. Crouching, the batarian pulled a knife from the boot of one of the dead guards, the edges of the blade as sharp and cruel as her own needle-like teeth. "There are easily dozens down in these cells. Arm them and we've got a fighting chance." It was no secret that Tidanya's brothel was probably on of the larger ones on Omega. And likely one of the more notorious. A land without laws where the worst in the galaxy congregated did very little for the weak and defenseless.

Shakki's stammering voice cut through the whispered gathering, orange-rimmed orbs darting fearfully down the hall. "A-Arm them? Are y-you insane? We have to run while we s-still have the chance!"

The cerulean pane of glass snapped in the drell's direction, Xen's chilling gaze freezing the alien in her tracks. The quarian took slow, measured steps toward the drell, bringing the polished surface of her visor closer than could have been comfortable for Shakki. "Would you want to be left down there if someone else had the chance to get you out? We are not leaving here without as many survivors as we can, and this building in flames."

Xen's words were fierce, uncompromising, powerful as she stood over the bloodied corpse of the batarians. For centuries, her people had been subjugated by filth like the ones left bleeding at her feet. The quarian people had long since learned that only the bond of kin could survive in the cruel space between the stars. These women had endured the same horrors she had. Still endured. Dozens more suffered in the deeps halls, their screams and cries for help echoing faintly in the distance. She would not turn her back on them. They deserved to be free of their chains as much as Kyta did. "I'm getting everyone out. Anyone in our way dies. Tidanya. Kiron. The guards. The patrons. All of them."

Xen's ice-cold gaze moves across the gathered women, meeting each of their eyes with her own icy silver orbs, daring them to defy her. No one said a word.

"Now... Follow me and stay close."

Xen slid into a prowl, moving through the shadows with ease as the others filed behind her, huddling together when the quarian brought her fist up for silence, peering through the pane of cerulean glass further down the hall. Two guards, a batarian and a turian, stood together smoking and chatting as they leaned against either side of the hall. Sneaking past them wasn't an option. Both fingers broke apart from her raised fist, signifying the number of guards present to the huddled group behind her. Xen's mind raced with countless variables and possible solutions to the situation before the most direct approach took it's place as the best one, the quarian gesturing for the group at her rear to stay put before she rushed down the hall in a lightning-fast low crouch.

The quarian's dash was too fast for her to hear the muffled protests of the women behind her, Xen darting from shadow to concealing shadow before a stray glance from the turian alerted him to her presence. His cigarette fell to the ground as his taloned hand went to his earpiece, mandibles flared in panic as he shouted.

"Kiron! Kiron, we've got loose merch in lev-"

A hollow thud silenced the turian's alert, the razor-edge of Xen's stolen talon imbedded between his eyes with a spurt of cerulean gore. The impact of Xen's well-aimed throw carried the turian's head back with it's force, the guard's corpse falling flat on it's back, leaving the batarian stammering.

"Shit! Oh, fu-"

Xen was before the batarian in the blink of an eye, the barrel of her pistol pressed against his sweating forehead, forcing him against the stone wall. Xen's ice-cold gaze bore into the batarian's dark eyes, the foul stench of urine and fear wafting it's way into her olfactory filters. The alien choked on his words, something thick and translucent running from his nose as he choked on his own words. "I-it's Omega… I'm just trying to survive! I've got a kid at home, pl-"

Xen squeezed the trigger, painting the world around her in a bright shade of crimson, small fragments of skull scraping at her visor as they flew through the air and at least one stringy piece of grey matter lingering on the surface of the polished glass. One three-fingered hand calmly wiped away the layer of gore from her visor as the batarian's body slumped against the wall, smoke curling from the barrel of the pistol. Xen heard the shuffling of multiple feet, turning to see the group of women searching the bodies at her feet, Shakki hesitantly tossing an eye from it's resting place over the magnetic clasp of the batarian's pistol. Xen heard the thundering bass of the music coming from the deeper cells halt, pulling her talon free from the turian's skull as her cold eyes narrowed, passing over row after row of cell doors. "The guards have been alerted. We don't have time to waste," she said coolly.

Xen's omni-tool flared to life, the cell doors before her screeching open with a wave of her hand. Stealth would be a waste at this point, it was time for force. The turian twins share a fearful glance toward one another, the one who introduced herself as Varnal whispering to her twin as Xen's voice picked up over their group. "We have two more cell blocks to take care of on this level. We need to move quickly."

Shakki shared a nervous glance with the lesser of the turian twins, visibly blanching as she skipped over the batarian's corpse and stole into the next cell. Gevilla slowly approached her fellow batarian's headless body, giving it a swift kick, flashing her needle-like teeth and wicked eyes at Xen. "That's two you owe me, suit."

A muffled scream breaks the dead stare between the quarian and the batarian, Xen rushing inside the cell where the noise had come to find one of the turian twins, Rixi, huddled into a ball at her sister's knees, muttering and quivering. An asari corpse lay nearby, her lifeless eyes open and staring at the frightened turian, Rixi's words repeating over and over again with varying intensity as she shut her eyes. "Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look."

Xen slowly approached the body, chained to the wall and clearly emaciated, with sunk cheeks and rail-like arms lacking any healthy muscle. It appeared she had been starved to death. Perhaps she had simply outlived her usefulness to the brothel. Xen felt her hands ball into fists. The asari's eyes were a pale shade of violet, dead and lifeless as Xen's fingers slowly closed her eyelids, turning back to the nerve-wracked turian. The quarian's icy gaze shifted to the more lucid sibling, already knowing the answer to her question before she asked it. "Your markings. They're not yours, are they?"

Rixi whimpered as she clung to her twin's leg, small stinging beads of tears forming from eyes shut so painfully tight. Varnal's taloned hand rested on her sister's head, shielding her twin's gaze by forcing her against her leg defensively. "No. Tidanya 'gave' us these. Her 'gift'. She... melded with Rixi. She made me watch... for hours. I tried to stop her... but... Kiron... He... He..."

Varnal's hands shook, the pistol she held in one hand shaking so fiercely with her nervous movements that it was a wonder she didn't lose her grip on the weapon. She continued, "If you don't relax during the melding, if you resist, and the asari doing it is powerful enough…"

The quarian recalled the horrific agony of Tidanya's defilement of her mind, the searing pain coursing through every nerve ending and twisting her every thought and memory into nightmarish visions of pain and suffering. It was not something she would ever forget. With Tidanya, seconds became hours of nothing but pain and violation. To endure hours of such torture would be enough to break any sentient creature to madness.

Varnal continued, "Tidanya didn't even give us out to patrons. She…" Xen felt her gut go cold. She looked down at Rixi, horror clenching her heart as she realized this is what Tidanya had planned to turn her into.

Xen was at the traumatized twin's side faster than the eye could follow, almost slithering through the shadows like they were part of her. One unreasoning, terrified black eye met the wintery gaze of the quarian, Xen's words reflecting the same mantra that had kept Kyta warm on that cold night so long ago huddled up against her in the dark. "Look at me." Rixi turned her gaze to Xen. "She did it to me, too. I thought it was going to die with all that pain inside me. But I couldn't. I had a friend I had to protect. I had to be strong. Be strong, Rixi. Be strong for your sister. I promise you, we're leaving this place and we're going home, but you need to be strong."

Rixi's mandibles twitched wildly, looking to Xen with childlike enthusiasm. "H-Home? Y-You p-promise?"

Xen gripped the turian's wrist, pulling her to her feet as Xen placed another hand on her shoulder. "I promise. Now let's go. The guards will be searching this level. We need to free the others quickly before we move on."

Xen backed away from Rixi, Varnal giving the quarian a slight nod of understanding as Xen walked from the cell, meeting Gevilla's fanged smile, the batarian gesturing behind her. "Got some more for you, boss."

Asari. Humans. Turians. A salarian. A volus. Xen's group of five quickly became a dozen frightened and pained faces. Bruises and scars decorated the throng, terrified gazes and whispered fears silenced as Xen moved among them, her tone frigid and commanding. This was her not so long ago, curled into a ball on the cold stone floor of her cell, weeping in fear and despair at the hell she had been chained to. No more. "Those of you who can shoot, take weapons from the guards as we move. Those of you who can't, stay out of the crossfire. Whatever you do, don't let them take you alive."

Gevilla slid a shield harness from the dead guard around her waist as the quarian spoke, twirling the simple knife she stole from the bodies of the batarians and gracing the gathering with her trademark smile of sadistic mirth. Shakki idly handed her pistol to a newly-freed asari, the violet skin of her face a mass of scar-tissue and disfiguring burns. Rixi clung to her identical twin, wrapping her arms so tightly around the lucid sibling as though she attempted to melt with her and vanish from the sight of the others. Varnal's hand met her sister's, stroking the tightly-gripped talon comfortingly. A salarian limped on one broken ankle, her weight supported by a barely-dressed human, her blonde hair left loose and dirty from days spent in the dirt of her cell, a pistol held in one hand with a white-knuckled grip.

They all looked to her for leadership. For guidance. For protection. It took only moments for her to turn their lives from desperation and pain towards vengeance and freedom. Xen had done that. Offered hope and strength for the others left downtrodden and persecuted. She was a symbol of that to these people.

The quarian's eyes roamed her encased form, the lewd suit she was forced to wear no less shameful without the translucent cloth decorating it. Xen's gaze turned to an open doorway, a sheet of ragged black cloth hung over the open cell, a room left for the patrons to enjoy themselves with their purchases. The quarian's hand shot forward, tearing the cloth from the rail it hung from and quickly wrapping the concealing shadow around her body, tying it to create a cloak not unlike the one she wore on Pilgrimage. The black cowl covered her helmeted head, leaving the blazing corona of cerulean light surrounding her ice-cold eyes the only thing visible in the shadows. It would do.

A roar shattered the whispered silence surrounding the group, the sound of chains rattling audible over a fierce bellow resonating from a single sealed cell door. Xen coolly raised a brow at the sound, turning back to the group. "Is there a reason this cell isn't open?"

Gevilla followed on the quarian's heels, the rest of the group not far behind, but keeping a sober distance from the cell door. The batarian's response was deadpan.

"Hekat's a crazy bitch, boss. She went nuts on a patron. Got loose. Ate him. Blood rage."

Xen stood in silence for a moment, the ragged cloak she wore turning her into something monolithic in her stillness. The orange light of her omni-tool blazed to life, waving the holographic device and unsealing the rusted door with a deafening screech. Gevilla's four eyes went wide as a bestial snarl greeted them, the gathering behind Xen taking several steps back as the quarian strode fearlessly into the darkness. A giant lay chained to the wall of the cell, the krogan female snarling and chewing with wordless rage on the gag placed over her maw as she pulled with all of her plated muscle on the seemingly endless series of chains, straps and locks securing her in place. The scaled flesh between her hard plates was a flawless ebon shade, shining in the dim light with a fresh sheen of sweat from her exertions. Her plates appeared black as pitch, reflecting back a dangerous shade of orange when caught in just the right light from her thrashing. Yellow eyes stared wide with snarling hate and anger at the cerulean visor slowly approaching her, her shackled claws trapped against the wall from the cuffs bolted to the cell's very foundation. Slowly, Xen's hand reached forward, pulling the metal rod acting as a gag free from Hekat's mouth, the krogan seething as the quarian spoke.

"Hekat."

The quarian's silver shards of ice stared unerringly into the krogan's raging yellow orbs. "Suit," came the barely controlled reply, Xen's cloths shifting as the giant snorted at her.

Xen's hands idly ran along the series of straps and chains restraining the krogan, recognizing the foul friction-based locks that had imprisoned Kyta in their design. Boiling bile forced it's way to her throat as she thought of Kyta still lying in the dark somewhere in this hell, turning her winter gaze back to the krogan. "We're leaving. Freeing the others. Killing all the guards before we go. Would you like to avenge the indignities you have suffered at their hands with us?"

Hekat snorts again, the slight gesture sending her chains rattling against each other. "Do you need to ask?"

A genuine smile crossed Xen's lips as she synched the omni-tool's interface with the electronic locks, her hand waving over them and releasing the massive shackles with a sharp hiss. The quarian stepped back as Hekat pulled at her chains, their anchor's pulled straight from the stone walls of the cell as the straps ripped and snapped under the krogan's strength. Hekat's bonds fell to her feet, standing easily taller than the petit quarian. Hekat grinned, an expression that contained no mirth in it. "You have a name?"

Xen gestured for the krogan to follow her, the krogan lumbering from the darkness and meeting Gevilla standing at the head of the quivering throng of slaves. "Xen. I take it you two are acquainted."

Hekat's eyes met Gevilla's, the krogan snorting before bringing her crest in a head butt against the batarian's skull. Gevilla staggered back under the blow, the few armed slaves within the group taking aim for the krogan out of fearful instinct. "Your head's still soft, blink."

Gevilla regained her stance, a trickle of blood running from a cut split in her forehead from the jagged edges of Hekat's crest, drawing her blade at the snarling krogan. "And you're still a fat bitch. All that time hoarding our food really hasn't helped your looks."

Hekat took a step forward, her claws curling into tightly-balled fists as the batarian twirled her stolen blade. "If you couldn't fight for your food, you didn't deserve it."

Gevilla laughed, a mirthful tone dripping with venomous scorn.

"Typical krogan. I guess the only reason Tidanya didn't put you down was to see how much profit she could make from clanless fucking you up against the wall."

Hekat roared, bringing her crest forward as Gevilla ducked low to deliver a killing stab to the krogan's throat. Xen's talon split through the air like lightening, cutting a chip off of the krogan's crest as the quarian crouched low and brought her foot forward in a powerful kick to the batarian's gut. Hekat staggered back, wide-eyed shock looking down at the chipped piece of her crest skittering across the stone floor as Gevilla groaned from the blow she received to her midsection. "Enough. The guards will be upon us any second. We have no time to waste on your pretty squabbles."

The krogan opened her mouth as though to speak before offering a hand to the batarian, pulling Gevilla to her feet as Xen gestured for the group to follow her. There was a very uneasy silence, broken only by Xen's command. "Hekat, Gevilla, you're with me. Shooters with shields, file in front. Everyone else, take cover."

Xen led her newly formed resistance through the halls, hearing muffled voices and shouts of indignation further and further into the complex as they neared the next cell block on their level. The quarian gestured for a stop, the long string of their group hugging the wall with Xen at it's head and Varnal taking position as rear guard. Xen slowly inched along the wall, her lithe form hidden beneath her shrouded cloak as she peeked down the hall lined with sealed cell doors. A group of guards, two turians, a batarian, and a krogan were arguing with a group of men, one krogan dressed in heavy plated armor that differed wildly from the cheap hard suits the guards wore, a businesslike human wearing an expensive suit, and a turian dressed in worn and tattered clothing. The krogan patron shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at the batarian.  
"Tidanya owes me more than one favor. I'm not leaving until I get what I paid for.

The batarian guard held up one hand as he attempted to reason with the krogan patron. "Sir, we have reason to believe that there is a security risk on this level. For your safety, we're asking you to leave." Xen had to roll her eyes from beneath her mask at that. There was no such thing as safety on Omega.

The human clasped his hands behind his back, the tug of his jacket revealing the bulge of a holstered pistol at his side. "Are these orders from Lady Tidanya?"

The batarian let loose an annoyed sigh, rolling all four of his eyes. "My orders come straight from Captain Merani. Lady Tidanya is... indisposed at the moment."

The ragged turian's mandibles flared, clear outrage in his tone as he shouted at the guards. "I've been coming here for years! Tidanya knows me by name! This is insane! I want my money back!"

Xen slowly slid from her cover by the wall, readying her pistol in a two-handed grip and taking aim down the hall, one frozen diamond of ice staring at the back of the batarian's skull. "Sir, Tidanya is prepared to pay you back in full personally. Now, if you would please follow us out, we can-"

The mass-accelerated round blew straight through the batarian's cranium, splattering wet gore and grey matter over the patrons, a massive fractured gap left behind where the alien's brain should have been. Kinetic barriers weren't as common out in Terminus, fortunately. The pistol kicked in Xen's hands as she fired four more shots, two impacting on the shields of the krogan guard with bright bursts of sapphire light. Another one buried itself in the shoulder of the turian patron and the last scoring a glancing blow off of the krogan patron's crest before the quarian holstered the firearm and charged forward, the razor-edge of her talon gleaming in the faint lighting. A bestial roar sounded behind her, the thundering steps of Hekat charging behind her echoing along the cell block. The sound of gunfire whispering past the quarian forced her to crouch low in her sprint, in danger of being caught in the crossfire between the slaves and the guards and patrons. The armored krogan slid an assault rifle from his back, firing a spray of mass-accelerated fire that Xen deftly dodged, sliding inside an empty doorway and into an unoccupied cell with a flare of her omni-tool.

The krogan's fire blossomed against Gevilla's shields, the batarian dodging and diving in an attempt to get closer to put her knife to good use. The booming sound of shotgun fire resounded through the hall followed by a grunt of pain from Hekat, the krogan still charging as she held a clawed hand over the broken and bleeding plate of her shoulder. Xen pulled her pistol free of it's magnetic clasp, blind-firing the weapon into the tightly-packed group of guards before charging out of cover, talon still drawn and thirsty for blood. The quarian met the barrel of a shotgun scant inches from the surface of her visor, quickly dropping to the floor as the krogan guard carrying it squeezed the trigger. The cone of mass-accelerated fire bounced off of Gevilla's shield harness, the kinetic force sending her toppling to the ground. Xen aimed her pistol directly upward, firing round after round into the krogan's stomach, orange gore streaming from the wounds as he fell back against the far wall.

Laying on the ground, Xen's gaze met the krogan patron's, the assault rifled aimed squarely towards her with a smug grin. The quarian rolled to the side, the concrete beneath her chewed to pieces by the automatic fire before her hand shot forward, sending the talon directly into the patron's eye. The krogan roared in pain, dropping his assault rifle to clutch at the dagger buried in his eye. The human fumbled with his jacket, tearing the buttons away as he reached for his pistol, Xen planting two rounds in his heart and one in his skull from her prone position before he even unfolded the firearm. One of the turian guards broke into a sprint, running down the opposite hall in an attempt to escape the carnage, Xen firing a round after round, collapsing his shields and blasting apart his fringe. The other remaining guard drew a knife, bringing it down in a killing blow on the prone quarian before he was tackled against the wall by a one-ton mountain of krogan muscle, Hekat pounding her plated fist into the turian's face until wet shards of plate and bone were left imbeded in the concrete walls.

The krogan laughed as she backed away from the battered corpse left slumped against the wall, offering one bloodied claw to the prone quarian. Xen took the woman's hand, rising to her feet and nodding to the krogan in a proper gesture of gratitude. Neither of them noticed the wounded turian patron aiming his pistol towards the Xen before a round buried itself into his skull, Xen turning to see Varnal aiming the firearm with Rixi still clinging to her shoulder. Varnal's mandibles twitched as she met the quarian's gaze, an unspoken thanks shared between the two before Xen reached down and hefted the assault rifle formerly belonging to the krogan patron along with her stolen talon, slinging the strap of the rifle to her back. Xen's eyes roamed as she clipped the shield harness the batarian wore around her waist. The other women wordlessly scavenged the corpses, Shakki helping Gevilla to her feet as Hekat hefted a shotgun with a ferocious smile. Xen's eyes lingered on the staircase before moving to the cells lining the hall so recently filled with gunfire, unsealing the rusted metal doors with a screeching groan.

Xen stepped into the nearest cell, her cloak billowing behind her from her movements. The black cloth seemed to sink into the shadows of the cell, the quarian hidden beneath the cowl almost one with the darkness. Three visors slowly crooned to meet the newcomer, polished shades of fuchsia, aqua, and gold meeting her cerulean. Three quarian women were chained in various manners, one draped in fuchsia cloth that matched her visor hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, her toes barely touching the stone floor. The aqua visor hid pained eyes, a collar fastened around her throat and anchoring her to the wall of the cell. The gold visor's legs were kept open in a spreader bar, her hands shackled behind her and chained to the bar itself, forcing her to stay on her knees, or otherwise lay very uncomfortably.

Xen felt her hands slowly curl into fists beneath the shroud. More pain to add to the debt of blood Tidanya owed to her and her people. The asari would suffer for this a thousand times over. The fuchsia visor turned to meet Xen's ice-cold gaze with milky-white orbs. "Who are you? The gunfire... Was that you?" Her voice was strained. It occurred to Xen it must have been extremely hard to breathe in her current predicament.

Xen felt her mind snap back to reality as the fellow quarian's question echoed in her mind. "Daro'Xen nar Khalos. We're going home."

The fuchsia visor attempted to twist herself to face Xen better, her toes barely scraping along the stone floor before finally relaxing with a pained sigh. "Vin'Shi nar Kaali," she said, nearly choking on her own words.

Xen approached Vin's chained and suspended form, synching her omni-tool with the locks keeping her chains attached to the hook built in the cell's ceiling and releasing them, Vin stumbling to the ground and into Xen's arms before regaining her bearing. She stood perhaps only an inch or so taller than Xen, wringing her hands and letting the chains come loose before sliding her wrists free of the manacles. "Hae could use your help. Her fever has been worse the past few days."

Vin approached the quarian trapped in the spreader bar, Xen tugging experimentally on Hae's collar, the silver eyes beyond her aqua visor heavy-lidded. "You... You're nar Khalos? My father was nar Khalos... I'm nar Balei. Hae'Tel nar Balei... Do... Do you know where Kyta is...? She was always so nice..." Her voice was even more ragged than Vin's.

Xen's hands halted her movements over the electronic lock of her collar, turning from Hae back to Vin. "You know Kyta?"

Vin turned her gaze back to Xen, helping the gold visor quarian slip from the shackles on her wrists.

"She shared a cell with us until Tidanya moved her. She kept all the quarians together. You know her?"

Xen's frozen diamonds soften for a brief moment, averting her gaze from the other quarians. "I... Yes. Yes, I do. We're…" Xen stopped. It was hard putting into words what Kyta was to her. She couldn't find the right word. Instead she contined. "They took her. She tried to kill Tidanya. I don't know where she is now."

The golden visor spoke up, letting a light cough split her words as Vin worked on the clasps attaching the spreader bar to her suit. Xen felt a whole new disgust for how easy it was to attach such perverse devices to their suits. Was it not enough they were relegated to these suits, they had to be used against them like this as well?

"They dragged someone down to the lower level maybe an hour ago, but that's reserved for clients. There are no holding cells down there..." The gold masked quarian's voice was tired. Xen felt white hot rage pulse through her at the thought of how difficult simply sleeping must have been for them.

Xen's omni-tool passed over the electronic seal of Hae's collar, helping the sickly quarian to her feet as Vin finally managed to snap the clip attaching the spreader bar to the unnamed quarian's ankles, the golden visor slowly making her way to her feet with Vin's help. "Rella'Zren nar Jennian. If you're going to find her, I'm coming with you."

Xen shook her head, placing either hand on Rella's and Vin's shoulder, Hae leaning her sickly and limp weight on Xen's shoulder as she spoke. "No. The others will need your help more than I will. The guards will be moving through this level and there still is another cell block to free. Go with them. Keep each other safe." It was fortunate that every quarian knew self-defense. It would serve them well.

Xen slowly helped Hae into the embrace of the other's, Rella and Vin supporting the ill quarian by either arm as Xen walked from the cell, stopping in the threshold as Vin's voice picked up in the shadows. "What are you going to do?"

Xen slowly turned her visor to the side, one silver shard of ice staring back at the assembled quarians through a corona of cerulean light, the crimson glow of the hall's dim bulbs casting a stark silhouette of her face. "Bring everyone home."

Xen's gaze fell towards the staircase leading to the lower levels, turning back to the small army of women she had rallied, the throng only growing from the newly opened cells. Several had stripped omni-tools from the corpses of the guards and patrons, freeing the remainder of the slaves trapped in this cell-block without her. Gevilla approached, handing Vin a bloodied shotgun as she nodded to Xen. "Everyone that can use a gun has one, boss," she cooed with a cruel smile.

Gevilla gripped at Xen's shoulder, the batarian blanching as Xen slowly turned her gaze to bore into her four eyes, her hand quickly leaving the quarian's body.

"Boss, going after Tidanya is suicide."

Xen slid the assault rifle from her shoulder, feeling the weight of the M6 Lancer in her arms, so very much like her own likely still in Jason's squat on Caleston. It lacked the mods her father had so painstakingly crafted into the weapon, but it would serve.

"The guards will be moving through the level by now, looking for everyone. With so many patrons killed, they will not bother with mercy. Find the others still imprisoned and arm them if you can. Fight your way to the surface. You'll need each other's help to survive. I won't be far behind."

Gevilla sneered, her fangs bared beneath her scarred visage. "And you get Tidanya all to yourself, huh?"

Xen slowly turned the polished surface of her visor to face the batarian, cold fire burning in her gaze as chill as her words. "Yes."

The quarian turned on her heel, the ragged black cloak billowing with her movements as she let her voice carry through the hall. "Go."

Xen heard the shuffle of dozens of feet as she slowly descended the stairwell to the lower level of the brothel. Distant memories of Kiron dragging her into the depths and tearing her suit from her body surged through her mind in a hateful wave. Soon, he would be the one begging for death at her feet. These deep halls would not hide him. Xen was a hunter in the dark. A horror unleashed. A terror to behold. Death given form by the ancestors.

Here, in the dark, Daro'Xen was a goddess.

Xen reached the end of the railess stairs, the barked commands of the guards rushing through the halls the only sound emanating through the stone walls. The quarian placed her back against the empty doorway leading into the lower halls, a turian and a batarian conversing clueless to Xen standing just behind the wall next to them. "I don't know where she is, but I know having all of us down here was fucking insane," said the flanging turian. "The only reason we're having this breach is because nobody was up there watching the cells. Bitch is all tits and no brains."

Xen slowly slid her rifle onto her shoulder beneath the ebon cowl, silent and still as a statue.

"What about Kiron?" The batarian's voice grated on Xen's ears.

The quarian's hand slowly gripped her talon and pistol in either hand, silently sliding either weapon free as she listened to the turian guard's carelessly loud words. "He's around. Probably sending whoever he can round up to check out the gunfire. Shit, man. If they got their hands on guns..."

Xen's finger curled closer to the trigger of her pistol, her grip on the talon tightening as she stepped stealthily from her cover, sliding into the shadows just inside the threshold of the doorway, the guards on either side still oblivious to her presence.

"They're whores. Worst case, we kill 'em all and we get a slap on the wrist about how expensive they-"

Xen slid into the hall, her pistol aimed towards the turian at her right and planting a round in the side of his skull as she twirled and brought herself face-to-face with the batarian, the four-eyed alien left dumbstruck in death's gaze. His hand twitched only a millimeter towards his pistol before Xen's talon sliced open his throat and buried itself between his eyes with a precise flourish.

The alien's body crumpled limply to the ground as Xen heard shouts and armored footsteps thundering in her direction, responding to the sound of gunfire. The hall intersection of the hall split in three directions, empty doorways draped with cheap cloth lining the walls, providing ample cover from the guards approaching from ahead. Xen slid into cover, pulling her Lancer from beneath the shroud she wore as she took a deep, calming breath. Focusing, Xen could hear each individual set of footsteps rushing towards her through the audio enhancers of her helmet. Five. Maybe six. One sounded krogan, by the echo of his footfalls. The quarian hefted the rifle, listening as the guards skidded to a halt at the sight of the bodies from further down the hall.

Perfect.

Xen crouched, bracing the stock of the rifle against her shoulder as she slid on one knee to bring the weapon to bear on the guards. Five. Three turians, a batarian, and a krogan, each armed with simple shotgun and pistol affairs and standing together in a cramped and narrow hall.

Child's play.

The Lancer kicked in her grip as the weapon's mass-accelerated rounds tore the air, white streaks of light following in the wake of the rounds' speed, igniting the air behind them before shattering the armor of the foremost turian. Bright gouts of cobalt flew into the air, grey flesh smoking from the heat of the bullets scorching his flesh as they ripped deep into his body. One stray round found a home in the breastplate of the batarian, an orange stream of molten ceramic material running down his chest as he screamed in panic, hands darting along his body to check for other wounds. All the invitation Xen needed. Another burst of fire broke through the batarian's shields, ripping through his skull and sending fragmented shards of bone in every direction. Xen's finger squeezed at the trigger in bursts, spraying fire into the guards as they ducked into open doorways and blind-fired towards the crouched quarian.

Shotgun blasts lessened by exceeded range bounced off of Xen's shields, the quarian ducking behind the section of wall as it was chewed apart by blind-fired luck. The fire quieted, the remaining guards barking between each other before one of them shouted down the hall towards Xen. "Give up, bitch! Three on one. You don't have a chance. Put the gun down an-"

Xen hooked the rifle around the wall, firing a single short burst blindly followed by a pained groan as the guard fell to the ground. A low whine sounded, the guard screaming back at the quarian wordlessly as he crawled back into cover, the plates of his armor scraping the stone floor as he crawled. Xen smiled as gunfire chewed at the small corner she was ducked behind, taking a deep breath before she dove into the gap between the two ends of the hall, aiming her Lancer towards the guards and firing a wide spray of mass-accelerated fire down the hall. The quarian's ragged cloak billowed, displaced her form from the guard's blind aim, the stray rounds tearing harmlessly into the cloth and bouncing off of her shields. Another guard was cut down by her swift counterattack, the wounded turian bleeding from a wound to the knee and a krogan who's shields absorbed Xen's burst of fire.

A blast of shotgun fire blew fragments away from the corner of the wall, Xen backing away as the edge of the cone of fire ripped through her cloak. The krogan was advancing, firing burst after burst as he moved. Xen listened for his footsteps, calculating his distance from the terminal angle where he would be in position for a kill shot as she slid the rifle back in it's place and drew her talon. The instant the krogan's foot crossed the threshold, Xen leapt forward, sliding her lithe form under and around his arms as she brought her blade up into the alien's soft palette. Thin, orange blood seeped from the wound and poured over the quarian's sleek form, Xen twisting the blade around with her body until her back was to the muscular alien and kicking herself away from him, the momentum slicing the blade straight through his lower jaw and sending a handful of teeth clattering to the stone.

The krogan fell to the ground, gurgling and choking wordlessly on the flood of orange pouring from the gap torn in his throat and jaw. The alien crawled towards Xen, his clawed hand pawing helplessly as gore ran free from his body. The quarian kicked at the krogan's hand, ankle deep in his own blood as she calmly strode down the hall toward the prostrate turian, still whining in pain as he gripped his bleeding knee. The guard's eyes went wide with fear, clawing towards his pistol laying nearby before Xen's foot came down on his wrist. The turian snarled, cursing Xen until her pistol snapped forward and blew two of his talons off. He screamed, long and loud. Xen reveled in it, cold and calm as her weight left his wrist, pacing around the turian and kicking his pistol away. The guard gripped the bloodied stump of his hand, sobbing and screaming as Xen holstered her pistol, sliding effortlessly to crouch next to him, her cloak pooling around her like liquid shadow.

"Where is Kyta?" Xen's voice was a cold as the winter that had overtaken her heart and mind, turning her into a frigidly uncompassionate predator.

The turian's mandibles flared, waving wildly as he screamed at the quarian. "Fuck you bi-!"

Xen's blade split through the air faster than the eye could follow and sliced through the fractured plate of his knee, digging the tip of the blade directly into the joint of the knee. "Where. Is. Kyta?"

The turian's mandibles never ceased moving, his limbs twitching and spasming with every wave of pain shooting through his nerves, his voice faint as his body threatened to go into shock. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know..."

Xen twisted the blade, feeling the hollow pop of the cartilage snapping beneath the razor edge. "Where is she?"

He screamed, mandibles flared wide open, panting as he spoke. "I don't know!"

Xen's hand shot forward, taking a steely grip on one of the turian's mandibles, pressing her thumb at the soft junction of flesh attaching it to his face and pulled. Tendons snapped, flesh tore, veins ruptured as she ripped his mandible free from his face. Xen brought the polished surface of her visor forward, the cerulean surface decorated with small droplets of spurting cobalt blood as she spoke. "You have another. Tell me where Kyta is."

Blood leaked into the open gap in the turian's maw, splitting a gout of cobalt onto the stone floor as he hyperventilated, desperate to stay conscious. "I don't know... Please... They dragged a quarian down here a few hours ago... I haven't seen her since..."

Xen was eerily still, staring at the turian for what seemed like an eternity, watching the blood slowly seep from the tear in his face. "How many girls have you used?"

The turian's remaining mandible twitched, fear clear in his eyes. "I… I don't know… N-Nine... Maybe…?"

Xen slowly rose, the black shadow of her cloak receding and rising with her form, a monolithic executioner looming over the guilty. The quarian's pistol slid free from it's magnetic clasp, firing a round into the turian's stomach.

"One," she counted

The turian screamed, clutching at his abdomen in agonizing pain. Xen's pistol kicked again, firing another round into his body.

"Two."

Another.

"Three."

The turian held his ruined stump of a hand up, surrendering, pleading for her to stop before the pistol fired again.

"Four."

Another.

"Five."

Another.

"Six."

The turian screamed, attempting to claw at the quarian's leg with his remaining taloned hand until another round found a home in his intestines.

"Seven."

Another.

"Eight."

The turian sputtered, choking and coughing as blood welled up in his throat. Xen fired one last round, holstering the pistol as she stared down at his squirming, bloodied form.

"Nine."

Xen turned on her heel, the edge of her cloak brushing along the face of the turian, one last caress before moving on to her next victim. The quarian strode calmly through the halls, hearing the eruption of gunfire from above. The guards had found the others. Xen lingered for a moment before soldiering on. They were on their own now. Xen had a promise to keep. She could almost feel the weight of Kyta leaning against her, the look in her eyes when they shared stories of better times, and dreams of the future. The taste of her lips on her own.

Turning a corner of the hall, Xen suddenly came face-to-face with the skull-painted visage that haunted her nightmares, Kiron's mandibles spread in a cruel smile. Xen halted in her steps, sudden and clear surprise crashing over her hardened nerves like a wave. Hesitation gripped her. His draw was faster, firing a mass-accelerated round past Xen as her pistol hissed it's capacitors in activation. The quarian's mind acted on instinct, falling backwards and feigning death at the turian's hands.

Kiron chuckled, lowering his pistol with a smug smirk and holstering the weapon as he sauntered towards Xen's body. "You... Suit... You've been more trouble than you're worth. 'Course, the Lady has some fetish for you. Personally, I've had better." His voice was cold, mocking.

Xen couldn't see the turian standing over her, but she could feel his nauseating presence clearly around her. Kiron crouched down, bringing his painted face to her visor as his serpentine tongue danced along his knife-like teeth.

"Alas. We'll always have Omega..." The turian cackled, rising from his crouch and laughing hysterically at his own joke. Xen's eyes opened, staring as the turian closed his eyes, wiping a tear from one black eye and sent his mandibles fluttering with his sadistic laughter. "Oh... I gotta remember that one..."

Xen felt white hot rage pour from her chest into the rest of her prone body.

Kiron's eyes opened, mandibles clenching shut as he met Xen's icy gaze. His hand twitched, fear gripping him and freezing his limbs solid beneath her cold eyes. Kiron's grip searched for his pistol, Xen throwing her weight upwards using her powerful legs, landing and balancing on her twin pair of toes before pouncing forward and tackling the turian to the ground. Kiron's pistol slid across the floor, Xen straddling the turian as her cloak engulfed them both like a curtain made from the night sky, leaving the pair in darkness beyond the cerulean corona of her mask.

Xen's talon slowly slid to the turian's throat, bringing her visor far closer than the turian likely felt comfortable with, the shards of ice that made up her eyes boring into the glossy black orbs of Kiron.

"Kiron." Her voice was soft, much like the cloth draped over a prisoner's head before their beheading.

The quarian's visor lit the turian's painted face like a distant sun, casting everything within the cloth-cast abyss in a dim blue glow, the skull face painted over Kiron's sneer standing in stark contrast to the consuming black surrounding them. "Where is Kyta?"

Kiron chuckled, the sick sound sending his mandibles fluttering mockingly as he spoke with a voice dripping with poisonous scorn. "That bitch? Damn near split in half by the time everyone got through with her. She liked it, too. Begged for more."

Xen was silent as her pistol unfolded with a sharp hiss, bringing the barrel to run gently along the angular lines of Kiron's plates. The turian's eyes shifted from the firearm to the silver shards of ice staring at him, one mandible twitching nervously as silence reigned in the darkness. Xen never broke her stare. "If you're going to kill me, then do it. Fucking bitch. C'mon." Kiron's voice was steadily becoming more shaky. Fearful.

Xen slowly laid her body against Kiron's, resting against his armored form and breathing a weary sigh. She could hear his heartbeat racing through the cheap audio enhancers of her helmet. She could feel his chest rising and falling with nervous breaths. It reminded her of Jason. "Do you remember the last time we were together in these halls, Kiron? Do you remember what you did to me?"

Kiron was silent, his entire body stiff and frozen from the ice-cold clarity of Xen's words. Finally remembering how to speak, the turian sputtered a response, the quarian sliding her way back up his body to face him once more. "Yes," he said, his eyes narrowing. It was slowly dawning on him that he was trapped. A sudden move and Xen would have the floor decorated in cranial matter.

Xen brought the edge of the talon to Kiron's face, lightly tracing the point along the angles of his plates. "Do you know why we wear our masks?"

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the turian shakes his head. Xen wasn't surprised by his ignorance.

"We wear them because our faces, our bodies, are one of the only things we own. Even our suits inevitably are passed on to the next generation or recycled to create new ones after we die. To share your face with another is... sacred. It is the ultimate gesture of trust. Of acceptance. And in most cases, love." Xen's voice is mockingly soft, the almost gentle tones taunting him.

The blade dragged slowly around the curved plates surrounding Kiron's eyes, tracing the angles with a gentle caress. "You took that from me." Her voice was suddenly hard.

Xen slid the razor-edge of the blade along his fringe, a hollow scraping sound rasping within the darkness as she moved the talon back and forth.

"You took my face." Xen's gaze was unwavering.

Kiron's breath caught in his throat as the blade left his fringe, tracing lightly over the skull-like pattern painted over his face. "You turians wear your faces. Anyone without a face has no place. Nothing. Worse than nothing. You have that luxury."

Xen pressed the blade inside the small space between the dorsal plate of the turian's face and where his fringe began, the cold silver light of her eyes burning a path through the darkness into his own.

"You, Kiron, are worse than nothing."

Xen twisted the knife, a sharp snap splitting the air as the first plate of his fringe was pried loose. Kiron screamed, a horrid and unreasonably primal sound that tore at his vocal cords in a futile attempt to express the amount of pain he felt at that moment. The turian's taloned hands went wild, clawing for whatever purchase he could find before Xen slid her body forward, positioning her knees over his arms. Xen's talon stabbed between the plates of Kiron's armor with deft movements, slicing at the tendons of his upper arms with surgical precision as she pinned him to the ground beneath her. Sliding the knife deeper between his plates, Xen twisted the blade back and forth, feeling the flesh peeling along with the plate itself slowly coming loose until it fell to the ground with a clatter that was barely audible over Kiron's screaming. Cobalt ran in rivulets from his skull, the flesh gleaming a fresh sheen of blue where the longest plate of his fringe once was, Xen pulling the blade free and slid it beneath the one next to it.

Xen smiled, once again feeling that warm sensation of when she was child, performing unerring surgery on her toys. Her parents would be so proud of her. Such precision. Such grace. She was a true prodigy. Kiron's screams varied in decibel as Xen performed her procedure, from frenzied cries of anguish as her blade sank too deep into the tender flesh beneath the plates to the mewling, simpering cries as she pulled the plates free and tore the small strands of nerve-damaged flesh still attached to them. His blood, on the other hand, was a constant presence. It poured, seeped, drained, spurt, frothed, all staining the black surface of Xen's mockery of a suit and pooling out far beyond the ragged edges of her cloak.

Soon, all that remained of Kiron Merani's face was a scarred and plateless mess of torn flesh and bloody wounds. Xen's free hand grasped at Kiron's face, mewling as his exposed nerves raced with blazing pain at the touch. The quarian nodded with professional satisfaction at her work, pulling her pistol free once more as Xen brought her visor closer to the turian's ruin of a face, hot breath fogging the glass lightly through exposed slits of his nostrils. "Do you remember what else you took from me, Kiron? Do you remember what else you did?"

Xen's pistol dragged along the torn flesh of Kiron's face, blood staining the ceramic as she brought it closer and closer to the turian's gaping maw.

"Do you remember what you made Kyta do?"

Xen forced the pistol into Kiron's mouth, burying it in his bloodied orifice, the cracked ruin of his mandibles scraping along the edges of the barrel.

"Suck."

Kiron whimpered, blinking as blood ran into his eyes. Xen's finger curled closer to the trigger.

"Suck."

The turian let out a muffled cry before nodding, his throat swallowing against the barrel of the weapon. Hesitantly, his thin, serpentine tongue trailed along the weapon, blood and saliva slathering the weapon as Xen pushed the pistol slightly further down into the back of his throat.

"Suck."

Xen pressed the pistol deeper into the turian's throat, Kiron coughing and gagging at the intense violation of his oral orifice. Blood mixed with bile and saliva frothed at the edges of his fanged maw, Xen's voice reaching a fevered pitch as she pressed the weapon harder into his throat.

"Suck!"

Tears finally streamed from Kiron's eyes, sobbing as his tongue thrashed along the barrel of the weapon, coughing and convulsing around the pistol jammed into his throat. Xen's finger grew tight against the trigger, screaming at Kiron within the darkness.

"SUCK!"

Xen screamed as she squeezed the trigger, Kiron's skull exploding in a fountain of cobalt gore, showering over the quarian's body. Small fragments of bone and mangled plate stuck to the curves of Xen's cloth, running with the rivulets of gore along her form. A smoking hole on the stone floor was all that remained of Kiron's skull, blood soaking every square millimeter of Xen's form as she slowly stood on her feet.

Xen's eyes roamed over herself, taking in the murderous acrylics painting her suited body. Shades of crimson melted flawlessly with azure, orange running between them, never mixing or diluting. There was a strange liquid warmth to it that seeped through the tight fabric. It felt... hollow. Empty. Fleeting. It was so unlike the enveloping warmth she felt in Kyta's embrace. She needed to feel it again. Everything was so cold without her. Meaningless.

Kyta.

Xen's cloak billowed past her as she strode through the halls, her blade slashing and tearing at the ragged and stained draperies hiding the debased rooms so many patrons had used to live out their sick fantasies on the innocent. Stains of blood and various other foul fluids decorated the bare concrete apartments, Xen feeling ice course through her veins at every cursed empty room she came to. Kyta was here, somewhere. Xen would die a thousand deaths before leaving without Kyta.

"Daro..."

A faint voice called from the darkness, something breaking in Xen's heart at the meek sound. The quarian turned to the source of the sound, rushing through the halls, her cloak swirling around her lithe form like a pair of great black wings.

"Daro..."

She was closer now. Kyta was closer now, Xen's breath coming in deep inhales at the sound. "Kyta? Where are you?"

Silence descended on the deep halls, Xen crooning her head in a desperate attempt to listen for the soft sound of her lover's pained voice. The voice broke the silence, Xen's eyes snapping towards a ragged cloth-draped door. It was fancier than the drab drapery she had seen before.

"Daro..."

Xen ran in a mad dash towards the open doorway, her bloodied hand gripping at the curtain of cloth before being smashed aside by a wave of biotic power. The quarian fell to the ground, sliding and tumbling as she was tossed aside like a rag-doll by the wave of physics-altering power. Xen turned her visor to meet a heeled boot coming down on her helmeted head, Tidanya grinding the visor into the dirt.

"You have been very, very bad, pet." Her voice had her usual lustful tone, the scent of sex and gasoline mixing in Xen's olfactory sensors.

Xen snarled, her talon slicing through the air and digging into Tidanya's ankle, ripping and tearing through the leathers she wore and pouring streams of violet over her booted heel. The asari brought her foot away from the quarian's visor, delivering a biotically-charged kick to Xen's stomach. The quarian rolled with the crushing blow, sliding to her feet and crouching into a combative stance facing the asari. Tidanya's face was a mangled mess from Kyta's beating, various stitches and gauze patches covering her the deep gashes. One large patch dominated her cheek, fresh violet gore soaking the bandage from where Kyta had torn away the asari's flesh. Tidanya's teeth were cracked and fractured, shards of ivory hidden behind cracked and split blackened lips.

"You have killed my patrons. You have killed my employees. You have set loose my property. You... You are truly something special." Tidanya's last sentence is spoken with a tone of awe and wonder.

Xen brought her knife forward in a flourish, the curved, serrated blade gleaming wickedly in the crimson light. She didn't care for the asari's insane ramblings. "Where is Kyta? What did you do to her?"

A smug smirk crossed Tidanya's features, gesturing towards the open doorway behind her. "Your bitch is just beyond, pet. She marred my beauty. So... I marred hers. But don't be upset. I made sure her enjoyed every second of it."

Xen's eyes moved from the asari to the open doorway, a rich laugh laced with sweet poison spilling past Tidanya's lips. "Go on. Run to her rescue, little pet. Take a single step and I can create a singularity inside of your body until nothing is left of you but a malformed ball of organs."

Xen's grip on her talon tightened, the quarian's tactically trained mind racing with hundreds of possible methods to leave the asari choking to death on her own fluids.

"What do you want?" Xen was stalling for time.

Tidanya's tongue slid past her painted lips, blood leaking from the fresh cuts and slices inside her mouth caused by her fractured teeth.

"What's mine. Do you know why I spared you the chains, pet?"

Xen didn't respond, eyes darting along the halls as the asari whore made her dramatic monologue, searching for a way to end this stalemate. Still, she found her mind returning to Kyta and the others she had found. Xen had always acted up, and yet, despite that, she had never suffered much punishment, certainly not to the degree of her fleet sisters.

"I wanted this. All of it. You have such... fire in you. You are perfect, my pet. So beautiful..." Tidanya was ranting. It drove Xen crazy.

Xen's cold gaze snapped back to the asari, razor-sharp shards of ice cut from glaciers boring into Tidanya's languid and mocking gaze. Something in Xen's gut went cold. "You don't get to call me that, whore. Speak again and I will feed you your tongue."

Tidanya's hand came forward, Xen carried from her feet and slammed against the stone walls with a simple gesture from the asari. The quarian lifted her body from the floor using her arms only to be pulled from the ground and smashed against the ceiling, Xen keeping a tight grip on her talon as Tidanya dropped her back onto the floor of the hall.

"Such a tongue on you, pet."

The asari's hands danced through the air, dragging Xen along the stone harshly before smashing her against the walls over and over again, one sweeping movement of her arm sending her colliding with the opposite wall and falling flat on her back. Tidanya laughed as she pulled Xen to her feet, the quarian hovering above the ground in a nimbus of biotic witch light as her limbs were spread open, the asari pulling and wrenching at her arms and legs from their sockets like a doll.

"Yes... Scream, pet. I want your bitch to hear you scream." Tidanya's voice was ecstatic, drunk with power and lust, made even more gravel-like by her broken teeth and swollen lip.

Xen clenched her teeth as her limbs twisted at unnatural angles, snarls of rage slipping past her lips. The pain was nothing. Kyta had endured worse. Xen had no right to cry, no right to hurt. Tidanya's hands dropped, Xen falling unceremoniously to the floor as the hollow sound of the asari's heeled boots clicked closer to the quarian. Tidanya's voice was ragged, panting with clear arousal in her tone. "You won't scream... I like that. So strong… That's okay, pet. Your bitch will do all the screaming tonight. I promise you that."

Xen's eyes blurred as pain raced through her body, the battery she had endured under Tidanya's biotics disorienting the quarian. Harsh crimson bulbs glared down at her as Tidanya stood triumphantly over Xen, azure hands running along her leather-clad form, her navy tongue lashing against her own lips with depraved hunger. "I think you'll be the one making her scream, pet. I want to see you punish your misbehaving bitch. Oh... What a sight that will make... Unless you want me to punish her instead..."

Xen's eyes locked behind the asari, smiling beneath her visor at the red lights illuminating the deep halls. The quarian's pistol slid free, aimed for the light just beyond Tidanya's head. The weapon kicked in Xen's hands, flaring off of Tidanya's barrier as darkness falls over the pair.

"You won't get to see me do anything to Kyta," came the chilling response in the fresh darkness.

Xen's feet swung forward in a powerful kick, breaking Tidanya's stance and sending her tumbling to the ground. The visual enhancement of her visor allowed Xen to watch in the darkness as Tidanya clawed to her feet, snarling in wide-eyed rage. The quarian melted into the shadows, her pistol aimed for the remaining crimson bulbs lining the hall.

"You won't get to see anything ever again." Xen's voice is frigid.

Shots rang out, impenetrable darkness consuming the hall as the quarian holstered her pistol. Tidanya howled in vengeful fury, panting and screeching as the azure light of her biotics thrash forward with mindless force at her clawing arms. Xen's hand gripped at her talon, sliding silently in the shadows around the asari as she whispered to her in a cold venomous tone. "You think yourself mighty, 'Lady' Tidanya..."

The asari turned to the source of Xen's voice, the quarian moving like liquid around her biotic blast, the only sign of the quarian's presence a flutter of her ragged cloak and a split second gaze into her glacial eyes.

"You think this empire of filth you have built around yourself makes you powerful..."

Tidanya screamed in blind rage, eyes burning white with biotic fury, hands dancing with storms of lightning that sparked in an unstable wave of energy.

"Yet here you are, cowering in the dark from a Flotilla rat with a knife..."

The asari growled, her breasts heaving with deep breaths that sent her heart racing, eyes of white fire searching the darkness for her hunter. "Where are you?"

Xen slithered to Tidanya's side, the asari oblivious to the ragged cloth of her cloak already enveloping her. The quarian's blade idly caressed the skin of the back of Tidanya's neck. The asari turned too late, Xen pinning Tidanya to the ground as her blade sought the base of her skull. Tidanya screamed, Xen digging the point of her blade into the base of her skull and twisting at the soft flesh ripping and tearing open beneath her. Roaring, a nimbus of biotic light danced around the pair, Xen feeling the pressure changing in the air as she sliced deeper and deeper until she felt her blade scrape against something hard and metallic.

Xen felt a cruel smile cross her lips as her blade severed countless exposed nerves, ripping into the small biotic amp and the network of wires surgically attached to her nervous system. For a brief moment, Tidanya's screams ceased, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and threatening to go into shock from the pain. Feeling the blood running around her head and down her face, Tidanya's struggling renewed. Sobbing, the asari kicked and screamed, jostling Xen's knife free from it's surgical work much to the quarian's displeasure.

Xen's hand gripped at the asari's tendrils, bringing the curved blade along the stretched azure skin and running the serrated edge along the soft, alien flesh in saw-like motions. Tidanya's voice cracked, her vocal cords splitting as she screamed loud enough to send screeching feedback into Xen's helmet. The quarian never ceased her movements, feeling millimeter after millimeter of the asari's tendrils slipping from her scalp and gathering in Xen's hands, a bloodied pound of gore tearing from the asari in a fountain of violet.

Xen lifted her violet-soaked hand to her visor, examining the wet, malformed tendrils of the asari curiously. Asari were a bizarre species, their biology seemingly designed for the sole purpose of attracting the sexual attention of every species in the galaxy. It was no wonder a creature like Tidanya had spawned from such alien filth. The quarian's hand stretched forward, dropping the handful of bloodied flesh with a wet plop in front of Tidanya's tear-filled and anguished gaze. The asari screamed, her ravaged vocal cords forcing a hollow croaking screech from her throat as Xen's blade dug into her spine once more.

Xen's free hand wiped away the troublesome layer of coagulating blood obscuring her procedure, two fingers spreading open the wound to inspect the small metallic implant of Tidanya's amp. It was an expensive a delicate device, likely the work of asari artisans. Would that the Flotilla had access to such materials. The power-hungry asari kept such technology well-protected. The greed of the alien was unparalleled. Xen slid the blade to the side of the implant, twisting the edge until it was firmly lodged between the bone and metal. Slowly, Xen pried at the implant in an attempt to free it from it's placement on her spinal column, the blade scraping and cleaving into the bone as the amp came loose.

Pulling the talon free from the deep, bleeding gash of the asari's neck, Xen crooned her head to examine her work. The amp was free of it's affixed position at the base of her skull, only a handful of surgically-fused wires and nerves anchoring the amp to the asari's nervous system remaining. Xen's free hand came forward, gripping the small implant between the tight folds of torn flesh and tearing it free with a deafening scream from Tidanya. A nimbus of biotic witch light playfully danced around the pair as the asari's screams lessened, her face falling forward into the congealing pool of her own blood. The quarian held the amp in her three-fingered hand, blood making the small implant excessively difficult to grasp. "Your kind do not know strength," she whispered evenly.

Xen's hand flexed, crushing the amp in her palm with a spark of light. The quarian watched as the small shards of metal crumbled from her grasp, falling to the stone floor silently.

Xen continued, "We quarians pit ourselves against the galaxy every single day. Every organism that populates every world wants nothing more than to infect and destroy us. Our own homes threaten to burst open at any moment, ripping everything we have ever loved from our arms and casting it to the void. Our suits glorified cages that imprison us from ever feeling the warmth of the sun or the spray of the sea."

Xen gripped Tidanya by the back of her bare scalp, the wet surface slipping from her grasp before pulling the asari up to face the wall before her, the quarian whispering through her voice modulator into her ear. "And every year, more of us are sent to bring mighty gifts back to our homes, given all the tools and skills we would need to come home safely. But you, and creatures like you, would prey on us, seeking to exploit and violate us for your own profit. Because it is our 'place' to serve you and your foul ilk. Because it is your 'place' to rule over us as our self-mandated masters. You think you know your place in the galaxy, Tidanya..."

Xen slowly slid the razor-sharp edge of her talon along the soft skin of the asari's throat, gleaming wet with violet blood as she begged wordlessly for mercy from the quarian.

"...But you don't know anything."

The talon tore open Tidanya's throat, blood pouring from the ever-widening gash that severed vein after artery, the asari choking on the stream of violet as Xen spoke.

"You're insane."

Xen's grip on the asari's tendril-less scalp tightened, snarling as she smashed Tidanya's battered and bruised face into the stone, wet splashes of blood splattering over the halls. The quarian screamed, bringing her talon upwards and stabbing the blade into the asari's back. Xen's blade ripped into Tidanya's body, carving deep gashes into her azure flesh. It wasn't enough. Tears stung the quarian's eyes, running in warm streams she couldn't wipe away. She could still see it. Xen's blade tore across the asari's back, the serrated edge scraping along the bone of her spine. Tidanya's visions burned in her mind, searing itself into her memory forever. Xen watched, screaming and crying as the blood poured from the asari's wounds, wishing more than anything that she could bleed those visions from her skull.

Xen remembered every second of that horrific scene with crystalline clarity, the sight of Kyta's crying eyes meeting hers as she proclaimed her love, torn from Xen's arms and taken so far away from her. The quarian's hands gripped at Tidanya's wrists, remembering all the horrible things the asari had done to Kyta. Xen's foot came forward, pressing down against Tidanya's back as she pulled with every straining fiber of her muscles. The cartilage of the asari's bones snapped, Tidanya's arms torn from their sockets and hanging limp and useless in Xen's hands. The quarian sucked in sharp hyperventilating breaths, dropping the broken ruin of Tidanya's arms into the congealing pool of blood with a wet splash. Xen felt warm tears run down the smooth flesh of her cheeks, eyes roaming over the exposed and ravaged pale skin of Tidanya's back, the limp and broken arms, the bald, bleeding surface of her scalp, the brutal slice of flesh missing from the back of her neck where her amp once was.

It wasn't enough.

Xen's fingers tightened their grip on her talon. The asari was already dead, but it didn't matter. She needed to suffer. She needed to feel every single blazing nerve igniting with agonizing signals of pain coursing through her body just as Xen did. The quarian raised her blade, the wicked edge gleaming with the fresh dripping coat of violet over it. She needed to hurt.

"Daro... Please..."

The blade dropped from Daro's hand, clattering to the floor as the quarian's blood-soaked cloak billowed behind her, rushing to tear down the cloth over the empty doorway. Daro's eyes wept as she stared, frozen in shock at Kyta's unsuited form hanging by her wrists from the ceiling, crude leather straps binding her hands and hanging her from what appeared to be a meat hook. Red lines decorated her svelte form, thin trails of blood leaking where their claws and talons had bit into her flesh. A network of bloody gashes scarred her back, the wounds of what looked like whip marks flaying strips of flesh from her body. Something grey grew over the wounds, oozing a pus-like substance from the spreading infection. Her atrophied arms were broken in several places, malformed as her body weight was anchored against them. Translucent streams of tears ran from her silver eyes, looking back at Daro as her cracked and split lips smiled faintly.

"D-Daro...? Is that you...? A-are you real…?"

Kyta's soft voice broke Daro's prison of ice, feeling her limbs moving again as she approached Kyta, the cloaked quarian's hands shaking as her tears flowed freely. "I'm here, Kyta. I'm here. We're going home... Just like I promised."

Kyta smiled weakly as Daro wrapped her arms around her, lifting the unsuited quarian free from the hook anchored into the ceiling. Kyta's legs buckled under her as soon as they touched the stone floor, the quarian falling into Daro's arms with a pained moan. "It hurts, Daro..."

Daro brought one bloodied finger to Kyta's swollen lips, tracing along the cracked flesh as she pulled the torn cloth from the doorway and wrapped it around Kyta's frail form. It was no use putting Kyta's suit back on. It was left in tatters that had been strewn across the floor. Still, she would at least give Kyta some modesty. No one else was looking on her again. Nobody but her. "Shh... It's okay, Kyta. They can't hurt you anymore. I'm here..."

Daro tugged at the cloth, trying to cover Kyta's body as best she could. She could feel every sore and blister, hear every pained moan from her brushing against an unseen bruise or scar, bitter self loathing welling up in her eyes. This was her fault. Everything Kyta had suffered, it was all because of her. Daro choked on her words as she spoke, pulling and wrapping the cloth gingerly around Kyta's bruised chest and scarred back. "I'm sorry, Kyta... I... I-I'm s-so s-sorry..."

Kyta wordlessly nuzzled closer into Daro's embrace, lifting her broken and atrophied arms with what little strength she had left in an attempt to embrace her. Blood rubbed off onto Kyta as her arms fell limp, the cloaked quarian carrying Kyta from the cell as she tore more and more ragged lengths of cloth from the doorways they passed. Daro stopped as Kyta's heavy-lidded eyes came to settle on Tidanya's corpse.

"You... You killed her...?" Kyta's voice was broken, exhausted.

Daro's voice grew hard, holding Kyta tightly to her chest as she pulled more cloth over the quarian's body, biting down on her lip as her hands passed over every pox-like sore and oozing infected wound.

"Yes, Kyta. All of them. Like animals."

Kyta looks back up at Daro, smiling wordlessly as she nuzzles into the cloaked quarian's chest. Daro pulls one last scrap of cloth over Kyta's face, leaving her body covered head to toe in ragged and mismatched cloth. It wouldn't hold, but it might be enough to get her to a ship with a proper med bay and then home.

Home.

Daro walked through the lower halls of the brothel, her cloak billowing past her in a parade of darkness obscuring the world around her, leaving nothing but the girl curled in her arms in her mind. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Kyta was supposed to go home safe, unharmed, free. Not mangled and violated. Not like this. Daro slid up the stairs, a liquid shadow draped over Kyta as she moved, her feet pattering in the puddles of gore left behind in the firefight with the guards.

Kyta slept in her arms, a soft wheezing sound accompanying the rise and fall of her chest. Daro held the shrouded quarian tight to her, cold eyes examining the carnage left behind from the others' escape. Ascending stairwell after stairwell, Daro could hear the distant sounds of speech, the low rumble of tightly-packed life permeating the space station below that. Kyta curled in Daro's tight embrace, the final doorway separating them from freedom opening with a sharp hiss out into the grime-encrusted lights of Omega.

The freed slaves gathered at the entrance immediately turned their heads to meet Daro, more than one firearm coming to bear on the entrance to the brothel. Vin, Rella, and Hae immediately shouldered their way through the crowd, Vin's milky-white eyes widening at the shrouded figure held in Daro's arms. "Oh no... Kyta...?"

Rella's hands grasped either side of her visor, grief clear in her tone. "Oh, Keelah... Is she...?"

Kyta seemed to recoil from the light, curling her legs tightly together as she buried her shrouded face in Daro's chest. The cloaked quarian's eyes stabbed into the others, turning Kyta away from the onlookers as she spoke. "She's hurt. We're bringing her home. Until then, we'll need a ship with a decent med bay."

Gevilla strode out from the throng, a set of scarred and oversized plates of armor strapped to her body, concealing her scars. "Not to break up the family reunion, boss, but your home isn't everyone else's."

Shakki stepped forward, a ragged jacket draped over her barely-concealed form. "And how will we even get our hands on a ship?"

Daro looked down at the shrouded girl curled into a ball in her arms. Anything for her. "We steal one. Make our way to the spaceport. Fight our way if we have to."

Daro's gaze shifted to Gevilla, the batarian still hefting her shotgun. "Once we reach the Flotilla, the Admiralty we ensure that you are all ferried to your home planets safely."

A wave of murmuring washed over the assembled women, Varnal and Rixi stepping forward from the crowd. Rixi stood apart from her sibling, a slight stutter breaking her words. "T-T-Tidanya has a p-private hangar nearb-by. N-No need to r-risk stealing a ship at the spacep-port."

Hekat growled, a battered and scorched breastplate of armor hanging over her shoulders and a medi-gel patch held over the wound in her shoulder."And why do we need you, suit? Don't get me wrong, you've got a quad for springing everyone loose and I'd bet my hump that's Tidanya's blood on you, but why should we come with you?"

Daro's glacial gaze stared at the ebon krogan, feeling Kyta shaking from the fever already creeping through her system. "You can come with me or you can try your chances here. On Omega. Alone."

Gevilla chuckled, her needle-like teeth grinning at the krogan, Hekat conceding to the quarian's point. Daro turned to Rixi, the other quarian's moving seemingly by instinct and forming a guard around Daro and Kyta. "You know how to reach this hangar, Rixi?"

The turian nodded, gesturing towards a stairwell descending deeper into the bowels of the massive space station with a flutter of her mandibles. Before leaving, Hekat made a point of taking a stolen lighter, tossing cloths and drapes around the floor, then setting flame to them. As the group left, the brothel and the corpses inside slowly began to burn.

Daro nodded at the cleansing flame, marching forward with Vin, Rella and Hae standing with their weapons ready. Omega was far from a safe place, even for an armed group as sizeable as their own. A pack of vorcha scattered as the throng of women passed, their red eyes and snapping jaws salivating in the darkness. Shakki calmly approached Daro, keeping a respectful distance from the armed quarians as she tugged the jacket tighter around her body. "Tidanya... You... You killed her... Right...?"

Daro's gaze turned to the drell, feeling Kyta's skin flush beneath the ragged cloth she wore and holding the quarian tighter against her. "Yes."

Shakki's orange-rimed irises disappeared beneath the orange scales of her eyelids, her closed gaze shifting downwards. "Are you sure?"

The drell needed comfort. However long of a time spent beneath Tidanya's heel had bred great fear in Shakki of the asari. Daro knew Tidanya was dead. Nothing could have survived what she had done to her. "What did she do to you?"

Shakki seemed to shudder beneath the ragged, oversized jacket she wore, her bare feet pattering the concrete as she walked. "Drell... Our skin produces this enzyme... Ingestion causes hallucinations... It's a high..."

The drell pulled the jacket tighter around her body, biting her lower lip as her words choked out. Her eyes moved independently of each other. "She... She would bring me with her to her parties... She would just... just... hand me to them... Pass me around... I..."

Daro's voice was as cold as the heart of a polar glacier. "I killed her, Shakki. I scalped off her tendrils, tore out her amp, broke her arms, flayed her back, and slit her throat. Tidanya is dead."

Daro's heartless account of her vengeance drew more than one disturbed glance from the women assembled, Gevilla smirking as she closed her four obsidian eyes, sighing contently at the image. Shakki opened her mouth as though to speak before breaking off from Daro and her guard and hiding within the throng of freed slaves. Rixi lead the crowd deep and deeper into the bowels of Omega, earning confused and bewildered looks from the few inhabitants they came across. All the while, Kyta stirred in Daro's arms, feverish sweat soaking the ragged cloth she wore wrapped around her battered form. Daro held Kyta tightly in her embrace, praying to all her ancestors to grant their mercy and to lend Kyta their strength. She couldn't lose her.

Rixi stopped, coming to a rusted and massive blast door sealed shut. The turian turned to Daro, gesturing towards Varnal. "They b-brought us in through h-here. There sh-should b-be a decont-tamination chamber just past-t. And then on to the h-hangar."

Shakki's voice was whispered as Rella brought her omni-tool to bear. "What would a hangar be doing all the way down here?"

Gevilla's voice picked up from the rear, shouldering her way through the group. "Omega's a big place."

A soft chime sounded from the blast door's access panel, Rella's omni-tool vanishing as the group of several dozen packed into the decontamination chamber beyond. Kyta stirred in Daro's arms, a soft groan sounded from her throat that broke Daro's heart to hear. The cloaked quarian whispered as the decontamination cycle ran, the sterilizing fog settling over the group before the chamber opened up into the hangar. "Shh... We're almost there, Kyta. Just stay with me. I'm right here."

Daro strode out into the hangar, laying her eyes on the ship luckily still docked. A large, luxurious private yacht, likely belonging to one of Tidanya's patrons. The ship was of asari manufacture, all sleek lines and curved surfaces, likely filled to the brim with opulence beyond Daro. Aliens. Every square inch of a ship on the Flotilla was used to it's utmost efficiency. Without doubt, the luxurious open spaces within could house dozens, even hundreds of families.

Daro approached the airlock, celebratory cheers heralding her arrival as the doorway hissed open, running through yet another decontamination cycle before she entered the bowels of the yacht. Everything was stark and sterile white, painted in a pearlescent gloss with not a single sign of life aboard. Vin and Rella moved at Daro's flanks, shotguns at the ready and quickly followed by Gevilla and Hekat. The krogan rumbled as she moved towards the flight deck, shouting back down the hall. "Nothing. Crew's on leave?"

Daro's gaze traveled further down the access hall of the cruiser, holding Kyta in her arms as she strode through the hall. "Let's extend it. Everyone get ready for launch. Those of you with piloting experience, report to the flight deck."

Vin, Rella and Hae kept pace with Daro, following the cloaked quarian as she searched for the ship's med bay. Crimson lines ran along the white walls of the yacht, leading a clear path towards the med bay, the doors sliding open with a quiet hiss. The three quarians kept a respectful distance from Daro and Kyta, the cloaked quarian laying her shrouded form on the immaculate surface of the cot. Daro's hand gently traced over the small outline of Kyta's lips still distinguishable beneath the cloth, turning to regard the other quarians. "I'm leaving Kyta in your care. Nobody comes into the med bay without my expressed consent. Understood?"

Vin nodded, Rella hesitantly following afterwards along with Hae. Daro swiftly made her way from the med bay, stealing one last longing glance towards the shrouded form of Kyta laying on her cot before storming towards the flight deck. Judging by the riotous noise surging from deeper into the ship, it seemed the others had found the mess hall, Daro smiling as she took her first commanding steps onto the flight deck.

Shakki stood by one of the pilot's chairs, her hands moving along the haptic interface with practiced movements. The tension she had carried in her body was absent, seemingly within her own element inside the flight deck. An asari stood nearby, immediately turning to regard Daro's presence, her scarred and burned face recognizable from the cells Daro had opened during their escape. Shakki turned as Daro made her way towards the navigator's station, her hands quickly charting a vector for the Migrant Fleet. The drell cleared her throat as Daro keyed in the ship's route through the Sahrabarik relay. "The ship has sufficient fuel to get us as far as the Migrant Fleet, the pilot's console is synched with the hangar door controls, and the core is stable. Everything is ready for departure."

Daro stood at the helm of the cruiser, staring past the observation port towards the sealed hangar bay doors and to the stars beyond. Daro flung her cloak over the high back of the pilot's chair as she took her seat, Shakki and the unnamed asari sliding into the co-pilot seats on either side of the quarian.

It was time to go home.


	9. Darkness

The stolen cruiser was utterly silent during it's eighteen hour sojourn to the Migrant Fleet, the nearly soundless hum of the luxury cruiser's FTL drive the only echo accompanying Daro as she stared blankly down at the sterile white surface of the mess hall table. A polished tray of white ceramic sat on the table's immaculate surface, an unopened tube of dextro-based nutrient paste resting on top, the subject of the quarian's blank stare. Everything hurt. The pure, adrenal rush and focus granted to her during their flight from Omega had since faded, pain returning to her battered limbs with absolute clarity. It was an effort of sheer will to keep herself from doubling over. Daro hadn't eaten a solid meal since the journey had begun, only taking partial sips of water and tastes of nutrient paste when absolutely necessary. The others had practically forced her from the med-bay to the mess hall. Daro had spent time bandaging wounds and making sure there was no sign of pursuit, but beyond that she had almost sealed herself in medical with Kyta. Time spent eating or sleeping was time that Kyta could destabilize. Still, Daro was no use to her without energy. She needed enough to stay on her feet. After that, a quarian medical team would take over, and she might finally take a moment for herself.

A shaking hand slowly rose from the quarian's side, the three gloved fingers quivering in signals of pain rushing too her brain from the dislocation she had forced on the limb. Gritting her teeth, Daro brought the battered limb to her chest, taking deep and measured breaths in an attempt to shut out the pain. The arm would heal and the muscle would repair with enough physical therapy. All of the analgesic and painkillers had been either reserved for Kyta or given to the slaves Daro had managed to free. They had stolen a luxury yacht, not a medi-vac transport. The medi-gel supplies were quickly expended, many of the women enduring a cornucopia of injuries during the escape. The quarian had been forced to seal the med-bay shut for Kyta's sake, operating as an impromptu clean room, which made treating the wounded difficult at times. Her immune system was almost shot completely at this point, and careful monitoring was necessary to insure the balance of drugs remained at the proper level.

Shutting out the agonizing pain in her arm, Daro reached for the tube of nutrient paste and unscrewed the cap. She didn't have the luxury of allowing her pain to weaken her. Not when they were so close. Not with Kyta's life still hanging in the balance. She had endured so much, but Kyta had endured more. Still, Daro was left wondering how much longer that mentality was going to hold out against the need for sleep.

The tube of nutrient paste fell back onto the tray with a clatter, her fingers spasming in pain as Daro swore under her breath. It was getting harder to use her fingers. A thick glob of paste ran from the small lip of the tube, the quarian attempting to force away the agonizing sensation in her arm.

"Daro...?," a small voice called, the quarian looking up from her twitching limb to meet the inquisitive gaze of Vin's milky-white eyes beneath the opaque fuchsia of her visor, "do you need help?"

Daro's gaze shifted to the quarian, nar Khaali, giving her a curt shake of the head. "I'm fine," she insisted, unclipping the small cord-like tube from her helmet and sliding it past the lip of the nutrient paste.

Vin's white eyes watched Daro precariously, as though expecting the cloaked woman to topple over at any second. Which, given the events of the past few days, wasn't unreasonable. Her voice picked up a second time beneath her mask, a feeding tube attached to a small canteen of filtered water resting on the table.  
"I told the others to watch Kyta. You should get some sleep while you c-"

"No," Daro snapped, perhaps with more venom than necessary, her whole body tensing. The hard chips of ice that made up her eyes softened, her livid tone coming to her attention, "I'll be fine, Vin. Thank you."

A long silence passed between the two quarians, the only interruption the barely audible sound of Daro and Vin drinking from the tubes of their helmets. The fuchsia visor turned to face Daro a second time, the small light of her mouthpiece fluttering with her words. "You care about her, don't you? I mean... a lot, huh?"

Daro almost smiled at Vin's girlish phrasing, the memories of everything she and Kyta shared forcing a small shadow of Kyta's own warmth to her heart, "More than you know," she whispered.

Vin took a long sip of her canteen before speaking, her eyes softening as a far-off gaze overcame them, "She was always the strongest of us... When T- that bitch... took her... it was like we had nothing left. She... gave us hope." Bowing her head for a moment, Vin looked down at her half empty canteen, playing with the tube connected to her mask idly. "Kyta is definitely something special. She must mean a lot to you for you to do what you did for her. I wouldn't have wanted to face Tidanya alone."

Daro listened in silence, drawn into the undercurrent of sweet memories shared between her and Kyta. Nestled together against the cold nights. The dreams of coming home they both shared. The promises they made to each other. The quarian's voice was small, weak in the light of the warmth she recalled in her mind. "It's more than that, Vin," Daro whispered, a barely perceptible shudder running through her petite form, "she was there for me when I needed her most. We kept each other alive. We needed each other. We still do. I..."

A thick lump formed in Daro's throat, swallowing the despair creeping into her. The vision of Kyta left hanging by her broken arms in that pit burned it's way into the forefront of her mind. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Vin slid further down the long table of the mess, craning her neck downwards to meet Daro's downcast gaze.

"It's okay, Daro," the quarian said, her hand resting on Daro's enshrouded shoulder, "we're going home."  
Home. The word conjured the beautiful visions back into her mind that Kyta had whispered to her on those cold nights. Promises of a home world. It had been a silly notion when Daro had talked about it what seemed like a lifetime ago. It had been a nice image, something hopeful, but it wasn't necessary. She had what she needed, what she wanted. The fleet, diseased as it was, was enough for her and Kyta. She would be safe there. The abuse she suffered would take time to heal, but Daro would be there for her every step of the way. Her immune system, perhaps, would never recover, the regiment of antibiotics Tidanya had subjected her to ravaging what little defenses her body had left. Daro didn't care. Even if it meant that they could never be together in the same way again, it would be enough just to be able to hold Kyta in her arms.

Daro turned to Vin, her glacial almonds meeting milky-whites with a grateful and silent nod. Vin's hand left Daro's shoulder, taking a long sip from her water. The cloaked quarian ate her tube of nutrient paste quickly, suddenly reminded just how hungry she was. Swallowing down the last of the flavored paste, Daro's eyes sought Vin's inquisitively.

"You mentioned that you and the others had shared a cell with Kyta," she said, the question coming in the form of a simple fact.

Vin's eyes flashed in Daro's direction, nodding as she said, "Since Tidanya brought her in. It was just me and Rella for a while. Kyta came next and then Hae. She tried to get us to fight them." The quarian's eyes averted themselves from Daro, shame reflecting in the white pools, "I couldn't. They had us bound. We tried… and she paid for it. I tried to fight back when they brought her in wearing that... thing... But there was nothing I could do." Looking back at Daro, Vin's posture straightens slightly. "Rella managed to crack one's face wide open, at least. She spent an hour getting beat for it, couldn't' even stand when they brought her back." Even through the visor, there is the hint of a smile in Vin's voice. "She said it was worth it."

Daro felt bitter bile rise in her throat at the memory of watching Kyta endure countless cruelties and torments in the grip of her arm binder, the sadistic device tormenting her to know end. She could scarcely imagine hanging from the ceiling and made to watch helplessly as Vin was. Turning her icy gaze back to Vin, the bitter and cold hate leaked slowly but surely into Daro's words, "They bound us out of fear. Every one of us is a trained fighter. They wouldn't have been able to imprison us otherwise." Daro didn't mention she was kept relatively mobile, rarely enduring more than a shackle to the wall. Tidanya's vanity in her regard truly seemed to know no bounds.

Tossing the emptied tube of paste onto the tray, Daro reattached the cord-like feeding tube to her helmet with steady hands as she recalled the torments she had inflicted on Tidanya. A reprisal for the asari's foul actions and the diseased empire she had built around herself. Even with the smoldering ruins of the whorehouse left an incalculable distance behind them and Tidanya's vivisected corpse burning to ash, it wasn't enough. There was no justice for the crimes that took place in those deep, dark halls. It made Daro's heart well once more with youthful rage. Ironic that she had never felt more aged.

Daro's voice drifted slowly from her mouthpiece, hurt, anger and pained confusion reaching out towards Vin, "I don't understand..." Vin's helmet turned towards Daro, her quiet sipping silenced as Daro continued, "Why...? Why are we made to do this? It's unfair."

Anger, cold and implacable as the void between stars, gripped Daro's soul, "The Flotilla casts us out. Forgets us in the stars. Abandons us to the mercies of a galaxy that savors swallowing us whole. For what? For what?" The quarian's three-fingered hands curl into fists, her ice-cold eyes staring down at them and envisioning Kyta held in her arms, "Kyta lies at the edge of death. Even if she survives, I don't know if she will ever truly recover. You. Hae. Rella. All of us have suffered more than any living creature should and countless more of our kind still suffer scattered across the galaxy. For what? Meager scraps to maintain the patchwork tombs we call homes."

Ice poured into Daro's veins as she spoke, railing against the hand that fate had dealt her kind, "We aren't even given a choice! It's the law! Every quarian must contribute to the integrity and safety of the Migrant Fleet!," she shouts, droning the all-too-familiar speech given to 'inspire' Pilgrims, "We have to make them 'proud!' Our families! Our friends! Our very lives! None of it means anything to the Flotilla unless we can prove that we are useful!"

Daro paused for a moment, a fresh coughing fit overtaking her. She had only been running on the minimum of anti-biotics, reserving all of the Hierarchy standard issue the ship carried for Kyta. Without Tidanya's high grade medicine, Daro was left feeling the worst of the plagues she'd been able to ignore for the past months.

Chips of razor sharp ice turn to bore into Vin as the attack settled, Daro's eyes igniting the air between the quarians with cold fire, "And those of us who die out in the void are given no funerals. No rites to welcome them into the ranks of the ancestors. No peace. No rest. False comforts and words of hollow reassurance are given to families that can easily replace their single child, so long as it doesn't exceed the projected population growth. We don't want too many mouths to feed, after all. So... Tell me, nar Khaali... Why?"

Vin sat trembling in her seat as surely as though Daro's very words had left the air of the mess hall frigid. Milky-white eyes stared beneath a fuchsia visor, sadness and confusion intermingled with fear and wonder looking to the woman beneath the black hood.

"I don't know," she said, a shiver running through her body as she choked weakly on the words.

Something about the frightened quarian girl trembling in her seat shocked Daro from her ranting, staring into her milky-white eyes, so sad and frightened that they were on the verge of tears. Daro's clenched fists slowly came undone, the ice in her veins slowly running it's course as she spoke with a shamed apology, "I'm sorry, Vin. Are you... Are you alright?" It had only just now occurred to Daro that she couldn't remember ever asking that question to anyone but the bandaged woman in Medical since arriving on the ship. She suddenly felt ashamed.

Hesitantly, Vin slowly nodded, quickly taking a long sip from her water and averting her eyes from Daro's. The cloaked quarian's hand moved of it's own accord to offer an encouraging gesture, but thought better of it before drawing herself back into the ragged folds of her cloak. Awkward silence hung over the two, Vin nervously drinking what remained of her water and occasionally coughing on a poorly-timed breath. Daro's voice piped from beneath her mouthpiece, attempting to clear the air as she spoke, "Tell me about yourself. You say you're nar Khaali. A larger turian ship, if I recall."

Vin's visor nearly snapped back in Daro's direction, the quarian clearing her throat before speaking, "I... Yes... How did you know? I mean, they teach us about most of the Flotilla's ships in primary school, but I could never remember any of them beyond the live ships."

"My parents had me memorize the names of every ship on the Admiralty's manifest when I was still in my bubble," Daro said proudly, fond memories of her parents forcing a small smile to her lips as she speaks. Her parents had always pushed her for excellence, but had never failed to be supportive when it difficult, either. A fresh pang of longing wormed into Daro's chest. What would they think if they saw her now?

"The Khaali was a turian warship that was retired after serving in patrols against batarian pirates, if I recall correctly," Daro continued, pushing that thought to the side.

Vin made a soft sound, a bizarre pattern of breathing that Daro slowly recognized as breathy laughter before speaking, "Yeah. Although, calling a turian craft a warship isn't really saying much. Turians really don't build anything with comfort in mind. Although the recreational rooms weren't bad, I guess. Hae is more into ships than I am."

Daro tried to compare the vision in her mind of living on the Khaali as opposed to living on the Khalos. The Flotilla was a veritable army in and of itself. Every quarian was a trained soldier. It was far from helpless, fighting off countless pirate and slaver attacks for three hundred years. Warships like the Khaali were instrumental to the survival of the quarian people. However, isolated, they were weak, much like their ancestral nemesis, the geth. The irony was not lost on Xen at all.

Daro felt a new contempt rise in her gut at the Pilgrimage and everything it stood for. Exile, isolation, damnation, and suffering. All in the name of glorifying the weakness of her species. If it was in her power, she would abolish it entirely. Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Daro returns her attention to Vin.

A soft hiss of the mess hall hatch opening silenced the quarian's words before they could form, Shakki stepping into the brightly lit hall wearing a loosely-fit uniform likely belonging to the yacht's previous crew. A vast improvement from the barely concealing rags that had adorned her previously. The first thing many of the slaves had done after receiving appropriate medical attention was find new clothes, or in the case of the quarians, tear the humiliating ones they'd been forced to adorn their suits.

The orange-scaled drell's gaze settled on Daro, her golden eyes blinking under twin eyelids as she spoke, "We should be arriving at the Migrant Fleet's coordinates soon, ma'am," she annunciated, the words seemingly coming from her lips as easily as breathing.

Nodding gratefully to the drell, Daro gestured with a curt wave for Shakki to take a seat, "Call me Daro, please," she said with an almost exasperated tone. Moving across the mess hall to take a bottle of water from the one of the coolers, the drell sat across the table from the pair of quarians, sipping quietly to herself and pretending not to notice Daro's level stare. The cloaked quarian broke the silence with a polite question. No reason to abandon hospitality.

"You were a pilot, I assume?," she asked, absent-mindedly rubbing at her battered limb, "You were only one of two who has any experience, it seems."

Swallowing, Shakki turned to regard Daro with a small upturn of the corner of her mouth. "Part of being a drell is being trained for whatever purpose the hanar need us for. They can't really pilot themselves all the time...," the drell said, making a limp motion with her wrist, "Tentacles. Not particularly efficient for maneuvering a control stick."

Daro tilted her head to the side curiously, "I haven't met any drell in my travels. You live under the Primacy, I understand."

The drell seemed to consider her words carefully, pausing after every word as she spoke, "In a manner. We're given a choice if we want to serve the Primacy or make our own way in the galaxy, although it's considered a great honor to uphold the Compact."

Considering the drell's words, Daro's eyes slowly narrowed, "I've read about the Compact. It sounds very close to slavery."

Shakki seemed to flinch at Daro's measured accusation, "It's not, really. We're given a choice. We have homes. Culture. Free will. We just learned to respect the ones who saved our species from destruction."

A bitter sneer crossed Daro's features at Shakki's stumbling justification, "From yourselves..." Silence reigned in the mess hall as Daro's words were absorbed, the cloaked quarian continuing, "Your kind nearly destroyed themselves by their own industry. The only difference between you and I is that nobody saved my people. We don't live in debt of anyone."

It took Daro a moment to recognize the slight quivering tremble overcoming the drell's lip, Shakki's voice shaking as she averts her gaze from Daro, "I-I'm sorry... I'll j-just..." Realizing her mistake, the quarian's hand comes forward, the hard chips of ice that made up her eyes softening as she takes the woman's scaled hand in hers.

"No, I'm sorry, Shakki. I'm just...," Daro sighed, "Tired. And worried about Kyta. I'm... afraid. I haven't even spoken to anyone except Kyta for months..." Daro hung her head slightly, her eyes closing wearily. It took a force of will to keep from nodding off right then and there. "And I was never… the easiest person to talk to," Daro says finally. It felt odd talking about herself that way, almost like she was speaking about someone completely different than the determined pilgrim that had left the Khalos so long ago.

A three-fingered hand came to Daro's shoulder, Vin's voice attempting to ease Daro as the cloaked quarian tensed slightly at the physical touch, "Its okay, Daro. You don't need to apologize," she said, her fuchsia visor turning to the drell, "We understand."

Slowly, Shakki settled back into her seat, reading Vin's gaze as she gave Daro a small encouraging smile, "It's fine, Daro. It's a difficult concept to really describe. Most aliens disapprove."

Letting her hand leave the drell's, Daro absent-mindedly rubbed at the limb pulsating in signals of pain as she spoke. "Your kind at least honor their debts," Daro tried, hoping to make up for her outburst. "That's more than can be said for many. So you were trained specifically as a pilot?"

"Yes and no," the drell says, Vin settling back in her seat at Daro's side as she listens to Shakki, "We're given aptitude tests at a certain age that determine where our natural skills, personality and intelligence are best suited and then we're trained from that point forward to take on that role. I was a freighter pilot trading along the borders of Citadel space. There were only a few of us and we were only armed enough to handle the occasional disorganized band of pirates. We took a high-risk route on our last delivery, putting us closer to Terminus to save time jumping from relays."

Shakki swallowed thickly, as though trying to force the straining tightness forming in her throat away, the drell's lips forming in a tight crease as she paused her explanation. Turning away from the quarians, Shakki knuckled away something from her eyes, one of Vin's hands moving slowly across the table, a supportive reminder that they were there.

"Slavers. They didn't kill anyone, but Gods in the Deep, it was awful... Tarkir tried to fight them off even after they dragged us into the cells... They beat him... You couldn't even recognize him afterwards... I...," Shakki said, shuddering as she drew her arms around herself and rubbed her shoulders.

Daro watched silently as Shakki retreated into herself, one hand hesitantly reaching toward the frightened drell. Shakki's time under Tidanya's yoke was, as the cloaked quarian understood it, a hell in and of itself, her rare alien form a coveted prize for whoever desired it. More than that, Shakki was also a very exotic drug. The idea that more of her friends and comrades could still be enslaved somewhere in this wide and cruel galaxy was a notion Daro knew all too well. The quarian's thoughts are broken as her three-fingered hand finds the drell's shoulder, Shakki gripping at her hand as she shuddered quietly.

Stumbling and caught unaware of her own actions, Daro attempted to comfort the drell, her thumb tracing small circles along Shakki's shoulder and ruffling the loose uniform she wore, "It's going to be alright, Shakki. I promise you, you'll get home. Even if I have to see each and every one of you there myself."  
Sniffling, the drell brought her golden irises to meet the polished cerulean surface of Daro's visor with a small smile, giving the cloaked quarian a grateful nod. Taking Daro's hand in her own, Shakki slowly brought it down from her shoulder and into her lap, her free hand clasping over it and enveloping her digits with a concerned frown. "How is Kyta?," she asked, "I know you were concerned when we left and..."

The shadows enshrouding the cloaked quarian somehow seemed to grow darker as she pried her hand free of Shakki's gentle grip, fleeing into the ragged and stained cloak she wore, Daro's cerulean visor hanging low. Glacial orbs slowly sealed tight, vanishing in the opaque screen as she whispered, "I don't know."

As one black mass, Daro rose, her shadowed form standing in stark contrast with the pearlescent white of the cruiser's interior. Vin moved to intercept the cloaked quarian as she moved towards the mess hall hatch, Daro holding out one shaking hand to silence her before she could protest. Thumbing the access panel leading into the halls of the cruiser, Daro vanished from the hall, a flash of the ragged edges of her makeshift cloak marking her flight.

How could she even begin to explain? Being away from Kyta, even on the other end of the ship was torture. Every separation had been hell in Tidanya's palace of filth. Daro had become dependant on Kyta, to the point any time apart left her unsettled. Knowing how grievous her condition was didn't help, either.

Pain shot up Daro's winched arm, the quarian bringing the swollen and bruised limb to her chest beneath her cloak. The sharp pain cleared the fog of despair settling over her mind, Daro taking a deep breath as she moved through the immaculate halls of the cruiser. She breathed, a ragged sound that led into another coughing fit. Shaking if off, Daro continued. They would go home together. They had come too far for it to end now. She just needed rest, if only to clear her mind and regain her strength, and to make sure Kyta was okay.

Daro's thoughts of anti-biotics and the weight to dosage ratios necessary to keep Kyta stable were swiftly interrupted as she collided with a plated figure mid-step, a jolt of shock forcing her to back away warily and drop into a defensive posture a second slower than she normally would have. Her lack of sleep was starting to show. Wearily, her gaze settled on Varnal's tattooed face, the plates defiled by Tidanya's mark rubbed raw. The skin looked blued, but the dark, twisted brand remained. One mandible hung slack against her face, the turian reaching forward to anticipate Daro's exhausted fall.

"Hey, now. Careful. Are you alright?," she asked, Daro waving away the turian's outstretched hands. The quarian stood tall before the turian in spite of Varnal's advantage of height and weight against Daro's petite form. One curved leg quivered, struggling to keep the weight on the exhausted limb before it straightened.  
"I'm fine," Daro insisted, "Just... tired."

Varnal gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, respecting the quarian's insistence by taking a small step backwards. Daro's gaze caught Rixi lying asleep in a bunk just inside the door Varnal had appeared out from, the twin sleeping soundly with the exception of the occasional twitch or murmur. Turning to the lucid twin, Daro whispered quietly.

"How is she?," she asked, Rixi's moments of lucidity and comprehensible communication few and far between.

"She's... struggling," Varnal sighed, looking back through the open door to her sister, "It's hard for her to distinguish between what's real and what isn't. Where Tidanya ends and where she begins. But she's still fighting it. Her spirit is strong." Turning to face Daro with a grateful smile, the turian nods to the quarian, "And what you said helped. Thank you., Xen. For everything."

A pang of empathy struck somewhere deep in Daro's chest, knowing full well what kind of horrible torments Tidanya was capable of inflicting on a person's mind. Scarred deep inside the recesses of one's subconscious, horrific visions designed to warp and pervert every beloved memory and precious dream, they would never leave her. Taking a single step closer to the empty doorway, Daro places one quivering three-fingered hand within the frame, whispering as she watches Rixi twitch and mumble in the midst of whatever nightmare she was helpless to defend against.

"Words won't be enough for her," she said, the bitter inflection in her tone clearly audible, "Tidanya was not gentle. Not for her and not for me." The quarian's grip tightens on the metal frame of the hatch, her tone taking on a more pained and frenzied tempo, "It's like every single part of you is being torn away strip by strip and laid out bare for her to see. She takes everything that makes you who you are and twists it, cutting and tearing and reshaping it as she sees fit. You feel every single second of your life, every memory you own, warped into a hell that can only exist in the mind and replacing every warm smile with a blow. Every joyous laugh with mockery. Ever caressing touch with agony."

Daro's cerulean visor snaps back to Varnal, her whispered plea cutting through the air between the two women like a needle of ice, "She won't go away, Varnal! It never goes away! Every memory, every feeling, she's there! I-It... I..." Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the pain, or maybe it was the twisted smile somewhere in the infinity that stretched Daro's mind. Whatever it was gave her the feeling of oil in her stomach, turning it and poisoning it, until at last it had caught fire and made her snap once more.

Breath coming to the quarian in sharp, hyperventilating gasps, Daro's hands quivered uncontrollably. Wavering dizzily on her feet, the cloaked quarian nearly toppled over, the oily shadow of an implacably alien presence weighing inside her mind. Everything seemed to fade away in a smoky cloud, the quarian's whole body succumbing to exhaustion and dark dreams. A plated hand suddenly gripped Daro's shoulder, the pressure waking her from her obscured vision as a flanged voice whispered in her audio receptors.

"Listen to me, Daro," Varnal whispered, taking one of the cloaked quarian's hands in her talon before she manages to squirm away in a fit of quivering, "Whatever you're seeing isn't real. Tidanya is dead. Dead and gone. We are on our way home all thanks to you, Daro. Your friend is alive right now and just down that hallway. That's what's real."

The turian's words slowly sank a heavy weight into Daro's mind, an anchor lowered into a stormy sea, the quarian's breath slowly returning to normal as she scrambled for purchase on the plated skin of Varnal. Hesitantly, the turian's talons came to rest on the smaller quarian's shoulders reassuringly. Varnal's were so different from the other turians. Kiron's had been unbearable, even through the suit. Varnal's were manicured and rounded, not so sharp and intrusive, Daro allowing her eyes to slowly drift shut beneath the taller woman. Just as soon as the comforting feeling of Varnal's plated talons came, it is banished as Daro's eyes darted open, defying sleep and the poor mirror of Kyta's own warmth. Shrugging herself free of the embrace, the quarian straightened her ragged and blood-stained cloak as best as possible and gave the turian a grateful nod.

Returning the nod with one of her own, Varnal stepped aside as Daro made her way into the bunk occupied by the sleeping turian. Looming like a sliver of night over Rixi, the cloaked quarian watched the turian sleep fitfully, the small light of her mouthpiece flickering like a distant star in it's death throes.

"It isn't fair," she whispered, turning back to Varnal, "My people leave myself and others like me to die in the void, but you... Both of you have a strong people. With power to stop things like..." She pointed to Rixi. "Like this. Creatures like Tidanya are allowed to destroy so many lives for their own whims and desires, yet even the Council seems incapable of aiding it's own people. Do they choose to be malicious and ignorant? Or are aliens so inept and incompetent that suffering like this must be the norm?"

Varnal seemed taken aback by the quarian's accusation, flaring mandibles attempting to reason with the woman in a hushed tone. "Daro, that's hardly the Council's fault. We were in Terminus. They have no authority t-"

"Stop trying to defend the people that abandoned your sister to… this," snapped back Daro, her voice crisp and clean as glacial ice, "They could have enforced the laws they claim to represent. They could have destroyed Omega long ago. They could give a damn about the countless thousands suffering while they bury their heads in bureaucracy!"

"Too l-loud...," a small, flanged voice mumbled from behind the quarian, Daro turning to see Rixi opening her sleepy eyes up at the two women. Varnal quickly made her way past the cloaked quarian, Daro stepping aside as the twin comforted her sister with a soothing whisper.

"Hey," Varnal said, giving a soft caress over the plates of her face Tidanya had tattooed with her markings, "Did you sleep better?"

Rixi responded with a soft yawn, her mandibles fluttering along with the muted sound as she slowly sat up on the cot. Small black eyes settled on Daro with one mandible hanging slack in a sleepy smile. "D-Daro. It's n-nice to s-see you. Are y-you alr-right? You s-sounded…"

Daro stumbled with her words, caught off-guard by the unexpected sentiment from the mentally-scarred turian. "I... I am fine, Rixi. Thank you for your... concern," she said, stammering slightly out of surprise and exhaustion.

The turian shook her head, sitting up straight much to her twin's surprise, Varnal attempting to help her fragile sibling as she stared up and Daro with an open mandible smile. "N-No. Thank y-you, Daro. You w-wouldn't let h-her b-break you. The spirits m-must have s-sent you to us. Th-Thank you."

Her flanged voice cracking, the turian looks away from the cloaked quarian, a soft sniffling sound sending her already stuttering voice wavering. "I-I w-wish I c-could be s-strong like you, D-Daro... I w-wish I c-could have f-fought th-them... I c-can barely sp-speak a-anymore..."

As one amorphous shadow, Daro knelt before the turian, the opaque pane of cerulean masking her face sending a soft glow over the woman's features. Daro took one of the alien hands in hers, the shape surprisingly similar, "Tidanya is dead, Rixi. I killed her myself and we burned her pit to the ground. Whatever you see inside yourself is a shadow of a ghost. She can't hurt you anymore. Nothing can. I promise."

Rixi slowly turned back to face Daro, a small glint of tears forming in her onyx eyes as she went to say something before a shuffle of feet at the entrance to the bunk drew the attention of the three women. Shakki stood at attention, all practiced formality as she spoke. "We'll be arriving at the Migrant Fleet's coordinates within two hours, ma'am."

Giving the drell a curt nod, the cloaked quarian rose, looking down at Rixi before turning to leave. "Get some rest, Rixi. I'll see to it that a message is sent for a volunteer vessel to send you and the others home after you've been checked by the medical staff of the Moreh." Before either turian can respond, Daro falls behind Shakki in purposeful strides, her voice cutting through the air as she banks off toward the med bay. "See to it that the docking procedures go as quickly as possible. I'll provide the identification. I need to ready Kyta to be moved."

Shakki responded with a formal affirmative as she continued on her way to the flight deck, the cloaked quarian moving like a dead shadow before coming to the med bay, unlocking the sealed hatch with a wave of her omni-tool and stepping in to the sterile white room, it's sole occupant lying in a cot with freshly-cleaned sheets. Daro had since occupying the med bay thoroughly cleaned Kyta's body as best she could, trusting nothing to chance, and wrapped her entire form in a new layer of sterile bandages. Circling around the sleeping and bandaged quarian, Daro felt her heart sink deeper and deeper into her chest with every step, trying to shake away the dreadful feeling of seeing Kyta laid so low by busying herself with the array of medical computers and monitoring systems she had attached Kyta to.

She was sleeping peacefully, at least, her neural activity consistent with deep sleep. With the virtual legion of potential infections and bacteria ravaging her body along with her physical wounds, painkillers where the only way Kyta could sleep anymore, Daro letting her glistening icy almonds watch the steady rise and fall of Kyta's chest, interrupted by the occasional coughing fit. Pulling a nearby chair to Kyta's bedside, Daro wearily fell into it, her gore-stained cloak draping over the arms and pooling onto the floor. Slowly, Daro's hand moved to take Kyta's wrapped fingers into hers, her thumb tracing a slow circle over the limp digits.

Silence reigned, the distant hum of the engines and the steady beep of the monitoring systems in time with Kyta's heartbeat the only sound within the med bay. Daro's gaze turned downcast as she broke the silence, unsure if Kyta could even hear the weak voice trying to reach her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm sorry it took so long. It should have been different, Kyta. It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were supposed to go home with our heads held high, smiling and laughing at our triumph. Not like this. Not limping back on the edge of death..."

Rising from her seat, muscles quivering and trembling in exhaustion, Daro stood over her bandaged friend, cupping her cheek with her free hand and dragging her thumb gently along the thick layer of cloth wrappings. "We were supposed to walk out of there together. Run together." Her grip on Kyta's hand tightened. "Hold hands together. Hug together." Leaning forward, the smooth surface of her visor softly rested against Kyta's forehead, the mouthpiece of her visor grazing the outline of her lips. "Kiss together..."

Daro's lips quivered beneath her mask, bitter warmth stinging her eyes before welling up and running down her cheeks. "I-I... I let this happen to you, Kyta. I sh-should have done something. This is all my fault. I'm so, so s-sorry... I should have been faster. I should have... I..." The cloaked quarian trailed off, her words drowned in an incomprehensible cry of sorrow, holding her visor gently against Kyta's forehead with a clink.

Slowly regaining control of herself, Daro lovingly caressed Kyta's cheek, speaking in a soothing whisper to the sleeping quarian. "But it's going to be okay, Kyta. We're almost there. We're going home." The cloaked quarian tried desperately to smile, forcing the joy into her voice. "Home, Kyta. Like I promised. We're going to get to stay up and watch vids all night with a bowl of fresh nutrient paste. And your parents can come over whenever they want. Our family. We'll be safe, Kyta. We'll be home. Like I promised. Just a little further to go."

Feeling her legs shaking and quivering beyond control, Daro stepped back from her embrace of Kyta, nearly collapsing back into the chair at her bedside. Still holding tightly onto Kyta's hand, Daro's eyelids grew heavy, drifting shut against her will as the full weight of her exhaustion fell upon her body like a tidal wave. Weakly, she spoke to her comatose lover one last time before sleep took her at last, the near super human display of endurance Xen had displayed finally running out. "I promised..."

Silence, cold and quiet, became Daro's world, the cloaked quarian standing draped in a curtain of darkness indistinguishable from the abyss surrounding her. Phantom winds blew from nowhere, sending a horribly inevitable chill running through her suited form. So cold... So cold without Kyta here. Holding her arms tightly across her chest, Daro's piercing gaze sought Kyta through the endless dreamscape, fear and dread creeping into her when she found nothing. The perpetual need for Kyta's safety pervaded Daro on every level, including the subconscious.

The quarian's breath fogged the cerulean surface of her mask, her breath coming in weak, panicked gasps as her heart raced in nightmarish fear. Something moved in the shadows, an inky tendril slithering across the formless landscape, some primal part of Daro's mind screaming in fear at the alien presence. A voice rang out from the darkness, venomous and seductive in it's scornful mockery as the oily tendril slid closer to the cloaked quarian. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... Is my precious little pet lonely?"

Tidanya's laughter, rich and thick like honey laced with poison echoed across infinite spaces as Daro turned to flee in horror. No. Not her. Not again. Smoky tendrils of oily blackness sprung from the shadows around the quarian, her cruel laughter ringing from everywhere and nowhere at once. Congealing and coalescing, the writhing mass of tendrils warped and mutated, a bare hand of oily azure skin stretching out from the darkness. Screaming in pure terror, Daro fell backwards, tripping on her cloak as ice-blue eyes glowed like pinpoints of cold light in the abyss, painted lips spreading in a slick smile as a navy-blue tongue ran lustfully along ivory teeth.

A shrill cry of pain sounded far off in the distant emptiness, Daro's silver almonds staring widely out into the darkness at the horrible sound of familiar cries of suffering. Kyta's voice rang out, echoing across fathomless distances, the cloaked quarian huddling uselessly in terror beneath the nightmarish vision of the asari, her quarian companion begging mindlessly for the pain to stop. Laughing a deep and throaty chuckle bubbling over with poisonous scorn, the asari slid almost in a serpentine fashion to bring her face to Daro's visor, her slick tongue dragging along the polished surface as she whispered. "She liked it, pet." Lacquered nails gripped and dug their razor edges into Daro's suit. "So will you."

The layers of material and mesh that made up Daro's suit gave way like water under the razor sharp nails of the asari, the quarian stumbling to her feet, screaming and running as fast as her legs could carry her. Her lungs burned, unfiltered air rushing into the breaches of her suit. Beads of sweat formed on her fever-wracked skin, coughing and stumbling as the muscles in her legs lost the strength to carry her onwards, Daro's body betraying her. Silver eyes turned back in wide-eyed fear, the asari languidly slithering behind the quarian as she crawled desperately on her stomach to escape. Black nails gripped at Daro's shoulders, tearing away at her suit as the asari flipped her sickly weak form over and pinned her beneath her weight. Screaming a shrill chorus of terror and agony, the quarian fought back fruitlessly as the last barrier keeping the monstrous nightmare of an asari was torn away. Running her painted nails over Daro's sensitive flesh, drawing crimson lines of blood in livid streaks, the asari's blackened lips and coiling tattoos smiled down at the quarian, whispering with rapturous and lustful hunger into her ear. "Mine."

Seething anger pierced Daro's heart at the hissed word leaving the nightmarish asari's blackened lips, remembering the whispered promise she shared with Kyta so long ago in that filthy pit they were locked in together and banishing her fear. A palm came forward, smashing into the creature's face and forcing it's writhing, serpentine body off of her. Kyta's voice called in the dark, begging for Daro to help her as the quarian rose to her feet, baring her teeth in hateful spite. "I am Daro'Xen nar Khalos. I am my own. Tidanya is dead. I killed her myself. You are nothing."

Baring teeth resembling long ivory fangs, the nightmare of Tidanya seethed visibly at the quarian's defiance, frothing venom and saliva dripping from it's long navy tongue. Cruel, mocking laughter bubbled from the creature's throat, slithering back into the shadows from where it came. Defiant shards of glacial ice started out into the darkness, daring the beast to rear it's foul head again before Kyta's voice cried out once more, Daro's unsuited body regaining it's strength as she ran to the source of her beloved's screams. A deep red light pulsed in the distance, Kyta's calls ringing louder and louder in Daro's mind as she drew closer, begging and pleading, lost in the darkness.

There. The silhouette of a quarian woman, standing starkly against the pulsating light. Turning to greet Daro's arrival, twin stars burned behind a viridian pane of polished glass, heartbreaking in their clear expression of pain. Holding one atrophied arm out for Daro to grasp, Kyta's voice whispered a desperate pleading groan. "Daro... Please... Help me..." Bare feet slipped over something within Daro's imagined dreamscape, the sudden and inevitable sensation of falling overcoming the quarian's senses. Deep red and impenetrable black gave way to blinding white, Kyta's voice calling to Daro as she twitched suddenly awake in the same chair by Kyta's bedside she had rested in.

Flashing crimson lights blinking dangerously across the monitors over Kyta slowly came into focus, Daro's heavy-lidded eyes snapping open as the cloaked quarian nearly leapt to her feet. Squirming and moaning in clear agony, the bandages over Kyta's mouth stretching grotesquely with every groan of pain, a sensation of pure dreadful despair crawled up Daro's spine and froze her in her tracks as she read the virtual array of monitors and sensors. Arching her back in a horrific contortion of pain, Kyta's atrophied limbs spasmed wildly as she groaned in agony. "Daro... Please... Help me..."

Panicking, Daro's hands dart across the haptic interface of Kyta's monitoring devices, trying to calm her shaking fingers. How long had the alarms been going? How long had Kyta laid in her cot, writhing in agony from the infections ravaging her body? How long had Daro laid there in a nightmare, oblivious? Ignoring the stinging burn of tears forming in her eyes, Daro adjusted the antibiotic and immuno-booster balance the system had administered to Kyta, taking a small tube of medi-gel and a roll of sterile bandages from a nearby table and trying to find where a breach must have formed in her wrappings. If one of her wounds was exposed to open air or not properly sterilized... No. She had checked them all. She must have. "Daro... Where are you...? Don't leave me... Don't leave me alone with them..."

Daro felt her heart sink into her chest. Kyta was hallucinating. The fever was slowly but surely killing her. She must have missed something. What? What did she do wrong? There had to be a way. Daro's hand quickly finds Kyta's, taking hold of it as her free hand furiously pans through interface after interface, medical scans running over and over again, flashing an angry red. "Kyta! I'm right here...! Look at me... Please... I'm right here... Stay awake! I need you to stay awake!"

Countless calculations ran through Daro's mind, consulting the veritable encyclopedia that was her knowledge of biology. Every single step of her treatment of Kyta was analyzed at the speed of the model scientist's thoughts, desperately trying to find where she would have made her error. All the while, Kyta's moans of pain and spasms of feverish agony continued, making it impossible for her to focus. Every dying whisper. Every delirious murmur. It was like another needle driven into her heart, each syllable punching a new hole in her resolve. No. She couldn't give up. They were almost there. Silently muttering a prayer to the ancestors for guidance, Daro's shaking hands attempted another scan before Kyta's voice drifted to her audio receptors. "Not alone... Not again... You promised... You... I... I love you..."

"Don't go…"

Daro's composure broke, a strangled cry of despair and sorrow croaking from her throat as she moved to Kyta's side, tearing off her own mask in a fit of grief. It couldn't end like this. Kyta couldn't die. Not when they had survived so much together. Not when they promised. Not when Daro promised. Bitter tears ran freely down her face, dripping from her chin onto the layer of bandages, pulling at them until Kyta's beautiful face came into view, taking special care not to damage any of the medi-gel sealant, fear and pain and confusion heartbreakingly clear on her features. "Please, Kyta! I'm here! I'm right here! See?" Daro took Kyta's bandaged hand in hers, holding on for dear life as her free hand gently caressed Kyta's bare cheek. "Please... Kyta... Look at me... I'm right here... It's me... Just look at me... Look... Please... I love you too, Kyta... Now focus! I need you to focus! Focus on me! I'm right here!"

Kyta's hand shook in Daro's grip, quivering in the death throes of fever, silver-starry eyes slowly drifting shut, one broken finger curling to brush gently against Daro's before falling limp and lifeless. The haptic display of her heartbeat monitor ceased it's sporadic beat, devolving into a long, wailing dirge echoing in Daro's skull. Daro's eyes stared at the flat line in disbelieving horror, her hands scrambling with grief-stricken tremors, bringing her lips against Kyta's, almost attempting to breathe life back into her. Bitter tears streak down Daro's face, crying and sobbing uncontrollably as her hands press rhythmically against Kyta's chest, attempting in a desperate plea to restart her heart. "I love you, too... Don't go... No... Keelah... No..."

Nothing. With movements that were entirely too slow for Daro, the shaking woman finally managed to get her hands on a defibrillator, pressing it to Kyta's chest. She pulled down on the switch.

There was a sizzling sound as Kyta's body lurched forward, bending into impossible angles that only broken limbs could. Still, nothing.

Again, nothing.

On the third attempt, Daro held the switch down, pumping as much electricity into Kyta's body as she could. There was a small tick on the heart monitor.

Then another.

Daro felt her heart soar, before the machine once again flat-lined with one long, final note.

Collapsing at Kyta's bedside, Daro gripped onto the lifeless, atrophied hand, anchoring herself in place as she went blind with tears. She was gone. Kyta was gone. Taken forever into the void. Cold surrounded and permeated Daro, all the light and love left in her feeling as though it had been sucked from her body in Kyta's final gasping breath. She was alone. All that was left was a broken shell of a person, a beautiful, loving person burned, broken and ravaged by a world that took her beauty and consumed it, leaving nothing for the only one left in the universe willing to nurture and love it.

Kyta'Jiil was dead.

In a fit of grief-stricken rage, Daro let out a long, shaking wail, ending with her staring at her free hand. A hand that had failed in it's duty. A hand belonging to a failure, the ceaseless droning sound of Kyta's heartbeat monitor mocking the quarian with it's screeching note. Quivering fingers tightened into a ball, bitter tears dripping onto Daro's knuckled fist as she cried. Senseless, animalistic moaning screamed from her lips, Daro's sorrowful moaning ebbing and flowing between coherency and babbling. More than anything, she wished she could die at that very moment, taking heaving lungfuls of air as she hyperventilated. Maybe if she breathed deep enough, taking in all the filth in the universe and choking to death on it, she could see Kyta again. She could see her parents. Or maybe she'd simply cease to be. Even that was preferable. She could forget.

A shrill, rasping voice screamed in Daro's ear, slowly coming into focus over the quarian's whimpering cries. Shakki shouted desperately over the communications channel. "Daro! Daro, I need you on the comm! They want identification! They've locked weapons!"

Daro's tear-streaked eyes stared down at the flawless white floor, droplets of warm water dripping down with every heave of her shoulders. The Flotilla's defenses were based on a system of code-phrases issued to young quarians before they left on their Pilgrimages. Every set of phrases was unique to that individual, one a confirmation of their identity and a password that secured safe docking with the Fleet and another meant to signal a vessel for attack in the event a pilgrim was captured. For a brief, fleeting moment, Daro considered speaking the latter. Any approaching ships that had intentions that could not be identified would be shot down. The Fleet didn't take chances. Of course Shakki didn't know it was common procedure to lock weapons.

A twitch of her fingers brought her omni-tool to life, tuning into the Migrant Marines' communications channel halfway through the docking officer's warning. "-are within Migrant Fleet airspace. Identify yourself or we will fire."

"This is Daro'Xen nar Khalos, r-requesting permission to d-dock with the Moreh." Daro's hand tightened on Kyta's limp and lifeless one. Some part of her wanted it to end. To send the kill phrase and let it all be washed away in mass-accelerated fire and all-consuming vacuum. The deadly words lingered on her tongue, just at the edge of whispering forth and sending her to greet the ancestors.

A pause that seemed to stretch forever in Daro's quiet sobbing state filled the air before the docking officer's voice cut through the comm. "Acknowledged, Daro'Xen. Verify."

Daro's mouth opened to speak, the kill phrase nearly slipping past her lips before her teary eyes fell on Kyta's limp and lifeless hand. Staring at the three atrophied finger loosely gripping Daro's, the cloaked quarian could not find the strength to order her own execution. Kyta wouldn't want that. Not after coming so far. She would tell Daro to never give up. To keep going. To make sure the others, the people she had saved and who looked up to her for guidance and protection made it home safely.

Taking a deep breath to bite back the tears from flowing into her words, Daro spoke into the comm., calling to mind the phrase she had chosen what felt like a life time ago, "oceans of darkness, winds in the void, conquered by my hand, left hollow by my passing; this heart is triumph."

"Permission granted. Welcome home, Daro'Xen nar Khalos." The officer's words sent a piercing needle of sorrow deep into Daro's heart. Home. Her grip tightened on Kyta's lifeless hand. They were home. Fresh stinging tears welled up in Daro's eyes, blinding her as she attempted to speak through a strangled, choking sob.

"Requesting a security detail and a cleaning crew upon docking. Our ship is not clean and there are aliens aboard who require safe transport and medical treatment. And... And a medical team for myself and f- three others..." Daro took a pained look back at the hand hanging lifelessly in her grasp, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

"Understood. The outsiders will stay docked and receive treatment. A security team will escort yourself and the others to the medical wing for examination and decontamination. Captain Donn'Kira will want to meet you." The officer's words were lost on Daro as she cut her comms, one suited thumb tracing a circle over Kyta's bandaged hand. It was so strange, being able to hold Kyta's hand. Daro had always imagined what her fingers would feel like locked together with hers. How her arms would feel wrapped around her lovingly. Holding Kyta's hand in hers, Daro stared through eyes blurred by tears, convinced that she would just wake up and hold her hand, smiling and laughing that they were finally home. That they had made it. That they were free. That they were together.

But she didn't wake up. She wasn't holding her hand. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't laughing. She wasn't doing anything. Kyta was gone. Daro's free hand moved to join the one clenching Kyta's tightly, resting her forehead against the back of the quarian's atrophied and broken hand. Burning water streaked from her eyes, burying the weeping shards of ice in the rough texture of the bandages as she sobbed, begging and pleading for Kyta to please just wake up. "Please, Kyta... Don't leave me... Don't go... I can't... I'm not strong enough without you..." She had promised. They both had promised. Their own room on the fleet. A place of love and light and music, far away from the galaxy that had used and abused them. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Gritting her teeth, Daro buried her tightly-shut eyes in the rough bandages of Kyta's hand, her sorrowful cries turning to snarling growls of bitter rage. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Every atom in Daro's body wished she could go back to the miserable pit that housed the asari who did this and peel her apart all over again, removing her organs one by one and showing them to her. More so Daro wanted to crush the quarian people that deigned the Pilgrimage, and the cursed ancestors that build the geth. But it would be a cold and hollow comfort. In truth, this was no one's fault but her own. Nights spent curled together in the corner of their cell rushed through Daro's mind, Kyta's loving and soothing voice whispering her sweet promises to sleep, regretting every second of it. If she hadn't allowed herself to get so close, if she hadn't cared so much, if she had focused on escaping, they could have both been free before now. Kyta could be smiling and laughing at the magnificent sight of the Flotilla stretched before them, welcoming them home after all their hardships.

A great and terrible weight settled on Daro's shoulders, a hundred names and places rushing through her mind, countless voices whispering to her as she felt herself relive every terrible second that lead to this moment in time. It was all her fault. Caleston. Jason. Omega. Kyta. She had promised. She had failed. And all the while, a cold set of ice-blue eyes stared at her from some deep, dark corner of her mind with scornful mockery.

Distant sounds rumbled in Daro's hearing, her eyes blinded by tears as the rough fabric of Kyta's bandages scratched at her bare flesh. Footsteps moved through the ship with whispered precision, authoritative voices shouting through voice modulators over the familiar worried and hushed tones of the slaves. The marines. They were coming. Too late. Daro's eyes burned as she wept into the back of Kyta's limp and lifeless hand. It was all too late.

A sharp hiss forced Daro to turn her glacial eyes toward the med bay hatch, blurry shapes of faceless ghosts stepping over the threshold as the cloaked quarian slid to her feet, her hooded cloak falling over her features as she turned back to see Kyta's oddly serene face stare up at her in a deathly gaze. Her eyes, shining like diamonds, pierced through the veil between life and death, eternally beautiful even cold and silent. She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve to see such beauty. The two vaguely humanoid shapes step closer, a warbling question drifting from one of their faceless masks as more shapes darted past the open hatch.

Daro blinked away the haze of tears as she turned, her cold eyes meeting the polished surfaces of two visors, one of the marines, a woman, bending over to pick up Daro's discarded mask as the second, a male, took a step closer. The flickering light of his mouthpiece gave away the fact that he spoke, but Daro heard nothing. The woman's suited hand moved carefully, cautiously to lay a reassuring touch on the cloaked quarian's shoulder, moving to help Daro with her mask. The bare flesh of her chin, lips and lower jaw gleamed in the harsh light, cold, dead stars staring at the marine's slowly approaching hand unblinkingly. The man's visor seemed to peer beyond Daro's shoulder to Kyta's lifeless form, eliciting a snarl from the petite quarian. "Don't look at her."

More suited figures appeared, armbands displaying the various ranks of the medical technicians hurriedly entering the med bay and quickly approaching Kyta's bedside. Daro's eyes darted open, snarling and screaming as she lunged at the nearest technician in a fit of rage. One clawed hand scraped against the quarian's visor before the powerful arms of the male marine hooked beneath her arm and pulled Daro backwards. Hastily affixing Daro's mask to her helmet, the female brought one arm across Daro's chest, wrestling with her sweeping and clawing arm as the duo attempted to drag the cloaked quarian from the med bay, still screaming and crying through the distortion of her mask. "NO! Don't touch her! You can't touch her! Don't you DARE touch her!"

Vainly attempting to shout back over Daro's mad cries, the marines carried Daro to the threshold, her ice-cold eyes weeping a fresh stream of silvery tears as she snarled and screamed. "I need you to calm down, ma'am! The technicians will do everything they can! Please! You need treatment!"

Daro's powerful, curved leg snapped forward, thrashing in the air as her elbow smashed against the side of the woman's helmet, screaming in defiance as she writhed in the marines' grip. "No! No, I won't let them touch her! Nobody can touch her!"

The man's gruff voice barked from behind his mask as his arm wrenched back Daro's. "Give her the sedative." The woman shook off the dazing effects of Daro's strike, removing an injector gun from her side pockets and tearing down at the cloaked quarian's cowl before stabbing the needle into the suit and pulling the trigger, sending the needle through the layers of her suit and into the veins of her neck with a sharp hiss.

Horrifying numbness spread through Daro's body, replacing the coursing ice of bitter and hate-fuelled rage. Cold eyes drifted shut against their will, vainly attempting to stay open as darkness came to claim Daro. One weak hand reached out toward the med bay as the marines carried her away, her voice whispering past he mouthpiece as one last tear rolled down her cheek. "I promised..."

And Daro slid into a final darkness that stretched for infinity.


	10. Justice

Filth. That's all they were. Skittering back and forth between their warrens of rot and disease, pumping out clouds of choking poison that blotted out the sun of every world they settled. Howling gales of furnace-hot wind curdled the air and sent storms of dust and sand scraping at the polished surface of his visor, dirt-stained faces scowling with their ape-like features as he strode through the throng. Even through the grime, he could tell none of them were his prey, hapless souls lost in the consuming dust storms of Caleston and the consuming shadows of the soot-stained spires of Syneu. Somewhere on this miserable, besotted world were the creatures that had hurt her. That took her away from her people. Shen'Reth nar Khalos' eyes burned with white fire behind the deep crimson of his visor, pulling the dirtied cowl tighter around his broad-shouldered form. Ash falling from the clouded skies gathered around the quarian's ankles, leaving behind a trail of alien footsteps in the dust, so different from the countless others shuffling busily through the markets. Merchants set up small awnings over their booths, huddled and dirty figures packing together to futilely escape the falling ash, bartering and haggling for their goods. Bright neon signs flashed overhead, false light replacing the choking sun. Shen scoffed as he continued on his search. Commerce. A system created by the greed of the alien to fuel their economic enslavement of one another. On the Flotilla, everyone had what they needed and never asked for more. How galactic civilization managed to survive under the weight of it's own greed was something beyond him. In the end, it was greed that brought him here. Greed that had taken something so fragile and beautiful and twisted and broken it. Something that had been his.

Daro had come here as part of her Pilgrimage. She had planned it carefully step-by-step and pinpointed Caleston as an ideal location to procure a gift for the Fleet, so rich in drive core materials and littered with resources to spare. With painful clarity, he remembered her cheerful voice pointing out each highlighted destination on the small haptic star map she had built from scratch, the glowing lights illuminating the small cubicle she had shared with her revered parents. This was one of her primary destinations. Someone would know something about her and Shen knew exactly where to look. Being an Alliance colony, Caleston's capital of Syneu was not supportive of a dextro-based population like quarians or turians. This left only a handful of shelters capable of housing such species within the city and so far, the other's had been dead ends. The only one left was 'Kanek's', as the locals called it.

Shouldering and sidestepping his way through the press of dirtied bodies that made up the markets, Shen's visor scanned the rusted shacks that made up the district beyond, passing the vagrant homeless huddling together in makeshift shelters made from refuse and beggars foolish or desperate enough to ask for handouts from a quarian. Shen would have laughed at the irony if he had the time or the patience. Finally, he found a match, a rusted sign clattering above the building's entrance hastily painted with worn-away turian lettering reading as 'Kanek's Home for the Needy,' his visor needing to scan the sign several times to acquire an accurate translation.

A gust of wind blew a spiraling cloud of dust and sand past the quarian as Shen's gloved fist slammed against the metal entrance, a hollow booming sound echoing beyond the sand-blown entrance. Sliding partially open with a sharp hiss and a screech of metal, one beady green eye stared back at quarian's crimson visor, Shen brought his omni-tool forward with a flourish. Projecting a three-dimensional image of a quarian woman clothed in a dark cloak and veil over a suit of archaic armor, silver eyes like chips of polar ice caught in the starlight and smiling past a cerulean visor. Shen's voice, authoritive and demanding, growled at the turian hiding behind the door. "Do you recognize this woman?" One hand rested on the pistol at his side, folded on it's magnetic clasp.

The faceless turian's eye darted nervously to the quarian's three-fingered hand, mandibles clicking audibly even from beyond the door. Looking back to the holo of Daro, the turian shook his head after examining it. Moving to slide the door shut, Shen's hand slammed inside the frame loudly, the turian barking in surprise and falling backwards as the quarian forced the door open. Easily a dozen turians, men and women, even a few children whispered frightened murmurs between each other, flinching and backing away in fear as Shen draws his pistol. Bringing the holo up, Shen lazily aimed his pistol across the beleaguered crowd, soft screams sounding from wherever the gaze of the pistol's barrel fell beneath the voice booming from behind the crimson mask. It seemed even the great turian empire had its poor and cowardly, forgotten by a system as corrupt as the rest. "Let's try this again. Do any of you recognize this woman?" Shen breathed through gritted teeth.

Silence and frightened whimpers answered him. Shen's eyes narrowed beneath his visor, pinpoints of white-hot fire beneath a pane of blood-colored glass, leveling his pistol toward the green-eyed turian who had the misfortune of answering the door, aiming between his eyes. "Someone say something. I know you can understand me." Shen's hand was perfectly steady aiming at the turian man's head.

Slowly, Shen's finger curled tighter around the trigger, the turian's mandibles fluttering along with his quivering form. "Wait," a high-pitched flanging voice interrupted, a turian woman stepping forward and placating a small child chasing after her with a stained blanket, "I know her... She's a miner. She went to Dune once and came back with some human. The club out by the transit hub. Didn't see her again."

The quarian's finger eased a fraction of an inch on the trigger. "Who did she work for? Who was the human?"

The turian woman slowly rose her taloned hands, marred with filth and dirt as though expecting Shen to fire on her. "I don't know. I don't know. She went to Dune on her days off. Please, that's all I know."

With a suddenly flurry of movement, the quarian twirled his pistol, folding it and replacing it at his side while banishing his holo and omni-tool as he turned on one foot and strode out into the sand-blown streets of Syneu.

The Dune. He had a lead.

Beyond the grime-encrusted towers of Caleston's capital, Shen's eyepiece zoomed onto an encroaching dust storm, the crowds parting as he walked through the sand-blown streets and hurrying to their homes before the storm found them. With a soft whine, the scope attached to his visor returned to it's default position, the quarian pulling his dirtied shawl tighter over his shoulders as he continued his solemn march through the foundries. Grime-encrusted faces watched him with scornful hate and bitter resentment, their gazes lost on Shen'Reth. He paid them no mind. What were they to him? Filthy aliens ignorant of his kind, squabbling in poverty and disease. The irony would have been entertaining if it wasn't so pathetic.

A sneering man jeered from his stand as Shen passed, grease and oil staining his clothes and skin as he leaned next to pile of useless scrap with a smug smirk made of yellowed teeth. "'nother damn bucket. Figures yer kind would wanna come 'er and take everything we got while we're in the shit."

White eyes burned behind Shen's crimson visor, unblinking as they stared at the filthy human, silent and unmoving. Disdain quickly turned to fear in the human's eyes, the quarian savoring the human's subtle squirms beneath his gaze. Intimidation was an unexpected advantage wearing of the suits. Most sentients when standing still didn't really stand still at all. Their chests rose and fell as they breathed. Subtle twitches in the facial muscles gave away silent pondering. Weight shifted occasionally from foot to foot. The suit hid the vast majority of these humanizing qualities, and what it couldn't was easily masked. Shen, as far as the human was concerned, was a faceless spectre stepping out from the sands, staring with implacable alien eyes, armored in enough plate to take a round from a mass-accelerator cannon and carrying enough weaponry to invade a small moon. Cowards where often the first to speak, and the first to fold, in Shen's experience. This vendor was no different.

Crossing the space between them in springing strides, the human stumbles backward in the face of Shen's burning gaze, falling backward and tripping over his stand into the pile of scrap at his side in a loud crash. Looming over the derelict piece of sentient trash, a harsh gale sent the ragged cloth of the quarian's shawl billowing in the breeze, staring down silently with narrowed pinpoints of burning starlight. The flickering light of his mouthpiece blinked as he spoke. "Look at yourself, human. You and your kind... You've barely taken your first steps into a wider galaxy and you already find excuses to hate me and my people. Is it because the other species' do? Are your kind so eager to thrust yourselves onto the stage that you need to consult the opinions of your betters to fit in with the throng? Take a look around, human. Who's the one laying in the trash?" Even mechanized, Shen's voice was eerily calm, as though he may as well have been scolding a child for spilling a glass of water.

Sharply turning on one heel, Shen continues onward before the blubbering grease-spot of a sentient can formulate a response. He was hardly worth the quarian's time. In truth, it had been a wasteful effort scolding him. The man would continue on with his prejudices unabated. Anger and irritation had spurred the outburst, the sight of so much filth, literal and metaphorical both causing him to cringe. He was here for a purpose. A purpose far greater and more important than their barbed tongues or jaded, ignorant words. It called deep inside his mind with clarion cry, silvery and piercing as her own distant voice. Justice. It rose from somewhere deep inside the quarian, fueled by anger and outrage at the galaxy that spat on his kind and given life by the horrors that tried to break that proud, innocent, lonely girl he knew as a boy. It's cry rose even over the howling winds of sand and dust, the pulsing beat of the nightclub growing louder as Shen's steps brought him ever closer to his goal. Justice would be had.

A band of neon light proudly displayed the name of the Dune over the entrance, a tightly-sealed doorway designed to keep out the choking sandstorms and ash fall. Haptic interface flashing a bright green, the doorway opened with a barely audible hiss, a second identical door at the end of a short hallway lined with vacant couches opening and letting loose a barrage of furious, pounding beats on the quarian. Dark red light filled the smoky club, Shen's eyepiece immediately compensating for the low-light conditions and disorienting strobes. The quarian's omni-tool flared with a twitch of his three-fingered hand, cycling through the input methods of his visor's high-end visor, a custom piece of hardware displaying it's own visual feed on his mask's HUD. Infrared, heartbeat monitor, VI targeting array. All built into one easily-interfaced device the size of a rifle scope. If there was one thing Shen could say about Daro, it was her technological genius. She had taken some old parts from a rifle scope and a helmet to make it for him for his Pilgrimage. Fitting he would be using her gift of vision for his hunt.

A turian stood behind the far bar, leaning against the rack of neon backlit drinks separated from Shen by the silhouetted bodies writhing on the dance floor. Pressing on through the crowd, shoving the club goers aside in stride, Shen approached the bar, the turian slowly taking stock of the armed and armored quarian and standing up straight from his slouch. "So, whose day are you planning on fucking up?" he asked, one mandible hanging slack in a weak grin. As he gestured to Shen's armored and armed form

Bringing forward the familiar holo of Daro with a flourish, Shen's eyes narrow dangerously beneath his helmet. "Do you recognize this woman? I was told she frequented this club."

The bartender takes a step forward, placing his taloned hands on the solid surface of the bar and leaning to get a better view of the holo. Purely for show or his own amusement, likely. Not enough quarians came through Caleston to warrant anything more than a 'yes' or 'no.' After a long moment, the turian slowly nodded. "Yeah... I knew her. She worked this mine. I overheard some of her coworkers, regulars here, talking about something going down between her and their boss, then she disappeared. Heard he got a new mining laser shortly after, too. Love to know where they got the creds for that, private miners never turned a cred on this rock before."

Shen banished the holo with a flourish, leaning further over the bar as he spoke with a level stare beneath his visor. "Tell me everything you know about her."

The turian shrugged, leaning one shoulder against the bar as he spoke. "Not much. She wasn't a talker. Came in here a few times after her shift was over at the mine she worked at. Not any of the EA mines... I think she mentioned the one out by the valleys. Just out west. Sand crawler trail can get you there in a few minutes. Not a far walk outside the city."

Remembering the mention of a human at the turian shelter, Shen continues. "Did she have any friends? Anyone she spent time with or knew personally?"

Rapping his talon's against the freshly-cleaned bar, a marvel in and of itself considering Caleston's environment, the turian's mandibles twitched thoughtfully before he answered. "Yeah, some human. I think he was her boyfriend or something. He came here a lot. She'd wait around sometimes until he would get back from his own shift. Haven't seen him around since all those big layoffs a while back. Probably getting wasted somewhere."

Without giving any recognition to the turian's words, Shen spun on one heel and marched back out of the club and onto the sand-blown streets of Syneu. The late afternoon sun sank quickly toward the horizon, the choking cloud of sand the quarian had seen approaching enveloping the empty streets in darkness. Checking the compass built into his HUD recalibrated for Caleston's poles, Shen oriented himself to the west, pulling his shawl tighter around his broadly-armored shoulders and trudging through the storm.

What the turian had said did not rest well in Shen's thoughts. Boyfriend? That seemed so unlike Daro. Beyond each other, they had no friends on the Khalos. The girl was a prodigy, but that came with the cost of being labeled a pariah. Bitterly, Shen could clearly recall the first day he had met Daro, pushing down the boy who stood there, leading the laughing crowd of children in their mockery of the crying girl. Their day-watcher had been less than pleased, but it was worth it. They had been inseparable from that day forth.

Growing up, Shen had called Daro the closest thing he had to a sister and her parents the closest thing he had to a real family. After his own parents had died during a viral outbreak, Shen had been raised almost communally by the Khalos' crew, taught everything he needed from whoever was there at the time. After another family had moved in to share his family's cubicle to manage the space, he had taken to spending more and more time with Daro's family. Her parents had welcomed him with open arms. She was his best friend. His little sister.

When her parents died, it had hit Daro harder than anyone could see, due in no small part to how often she was ignored. But Shen could see her crying at the funeral, watching mournfully as their bodies were ejected into the consuming light of the stars. He found her later that day crying alone in the cubicle they had both called their home. Since then, she had grown so much more fierce. Proud of her heritage. Defiant of those who scorned her and her isolated nature. Her brilliance shone in any subject she pursued, excelling in all fields of her Pilgrimage training. Shen considered himself no slouch in his combat training, but Daro could beat him handedly and often did.

In spite of all of this, Daro had remained a loner. She absorbed herself in her training and her learning, determined to perhaps live up to her parent's expectations. Make them proud of her. Maybe even prove herself to the Fleet for casting her out. Even when she left to begin her Pilgrimage, Shen had been the only one to bid her farewell. Opening the holo he had taken of her before leaving the Khalos, her smiling eyes gazed back at him, the prism of light paling in comparison to the real thing. It was a rare sight. Not something she gave freely. Whoever this human was, it had been him who had broken her.

Her armor gleamed within the small prism of the holo, polished and prepared obsessively before Shen himself had helped her affix each piece of the reliquary plate, metal armor forged from minerals taken from the earth of the home world and passed down and upgraded with the latest available technology with each generation since their exile. She was everything a quarian could hope to be. And then she had limped home, broken, sickly, wearing a mockery of a quarian's suit and a price stamped across the surface of her visor. Banishing the holo with a vicious sneer marring the quarian's features, Shen's steps grew a little more purposeful, the strides a little wider. Whoever he was, he would pay. They would all pay.

Fading twilight turned to starless night as the quarian trudged through the dunes of sand and dust beyond Syneu, the smoking towers of the city of foundries vanishing in the howling gales of the sandstorm. Fine-tuning the HUD of his visor to acclimate for the poor conditions, Shen continued unabated, the compass of his helmet's navigation VI pointing him westward. A faint light flickered on the horizon, the zooming sight of his modified scope making out the outline of a towering marker, the beacon blinking with a steady pulse of red neon to aid travelers moving through the sandstorm. Double checking his navigation VI, the quarian was sure that he had found the mine, climbing over a rocky outcropping to stare down at the massive shaft plunging into the planet's crust.

Eyes of white fire pierced the veil of the quarian's opaque screen and the choking sand, sliding down the dune and continuing undaunted to the entrance of the mine, slamming his fist against the access panel, the noise and encompassing heat of the mine rushing to meet him like the warm embrace of his ancestors. Descending deeper into the mineshaft, Shen found a handful of turians dressed in filthy coveralls gathered around a massive mass of packaged bulk, a quick scan of the labels identifying it as a new model of mining laser, the turian miners shouting and barking as they attempted to sort out exactly how to ready the machine for it's work. A commotion from an office building built into the side of the cavernous hall drew the attention of the sapients, a bloated human shouting another miner out of what the quarian could only assume was his office.

The banished miner stalked away, thoroughly scolded for whatever offence he had caused, Shen pausing as the human rejoined the crew at the laser. Eyeing the office and the unassembled laser, a plan forms in the quarian's mind, his modulated voice echoing strangely in the cavernous expanse of the mine. "You need to check the emergency seals," he said, the assembled crew of miners suddenly snapping their dirtied faces in his direction.

Approaching the hulking device still partially packaged and unassembled, Shen crouched to reach where his visor's scans indicated the fuel cells would go, talking idly as he slipped beneath the laser itself. "Company policy on these makes them leave the emergency seals locked in during shipping," he said, pulling a handful of small metal disks from his suit pockets, slipping them discretely into the laser. The batarian at the spaceport was happy to part with the explosives for what few credits Shen had, the bold logo of Batarian State Arms displayed proudly on the small disks. While batarian technology wasn't the most reliable, they were well-known for producing weapons that used unique and illegal materials, the chemical compounds used in the very explosives the quarian carried synthesized, patented and manufactured by a nationalized weapons-dealer. The perfect scapegoat.

Uncapping the emergency seal and releasing them, Shen slid out from under the drill just as one of the miners moved to bend over and investigate, dusting himself off and looking around at the barely-repressed hate in their filthy faces. Almost grinning to himself, Shen spoke. "You guys wouldn't happen to know if you were hiring, huh?"

One dirt-streaked human spat on the ground by Shen's armored feet, turning his sneering face to the quarian's visor and jabbing a finger toward the office built into the side of the cavernous wall. His lips curled as though to level another slur in the quarian's direction before he caught sight of the Mattock's stock rising over one shoulder, swallowing thickly and settling for a silent point of the finger.

Swallowing his pride and giving a mock bow, Shen strode toward the office, his three-fingered hand tapping rhythmically at his side, feeling the small detonator hidden in his suit pocket. The sweating and corpulent human had barely had time to return to his seat behind his desk from his tirade before Shen opened the door, locking it behind him with a wave of his omni-tool. The rolls of fat that made up the creature's neck curled over each other as he twisted his head in Shen's direction, the foul, guttural sound of his voice offending the audio receptors of his helmet. "Who the hell are you? Get out, you goddamn vagrant," he shouted indignantly, "We have new hardware commin' in and I don't have time for any more of you bucket-faces getting in my business."

Shen answered the human's cries with a flourishing kick, rage boiling under his flesh at finally having something he could feel guiltless in taking his hate out on, sending the heavy desk sliding along the floor of the office to pin the foreman against the wall. His thick fingers attempted vainly to push the furniture away with a croaked cry of despair, the quarian suddenly appearing crouched on top of the desk with the broad, curved blade of his kukri pressed against the hollow of his throat. A thin line of crimson formed as the bloated ape struggled, every movement only forcing more of the razor edge against his skin as Shen's voice hissed forth from his mouthpiece. "Don't. Move."

The foreman screamed, slapping his meaty palms against the desk and surging forward to free himself as he cried out desperately for help. Muffled voices reacting in shock and panic reached Shen's audio enhancers, his three-fingered hand reaching into his suit and removing the thin, cylindrical detonator. The human's small eyes widened in fear as the quarian's thumb pressed down on the small red switch, a deafening explosion sounding just outside of the office and blowing away the glass window and metal shutters. Mouth left hanging agape in shock, the foreman stared out at the carnage just beyond the relative safety of his office, the steaming, gory remains of his workers, both human and turian, clinging to the walls of the demolished cavern. Shen's voice rose of the ringing in the man's ears, turning his nearly tear-filled eyes to the flickering light of the quarian's mouthpiece. "I said don't move."

The human obeyed, fear shining in the small beads of his eyes, lifting the pudgy digits of his hands from the desk in surrender. Shen's blazing eyes never blinked or strayed from the rotund human's face, crouched silent and still atop the desk like a predator of distant Rannoch. The flickering light of his mouthpiece broke the image. "How did you afford the drill outside? Or at least what's left of it."

"W-What?," the human sputtered, "I-I don't know what you're talkin' about..." Shen's eyes narrowed, thin arrows of raging supernovas seeking the heart of their prey. He was a bad liar.

"A quarian worked here, for you," Shen said, the scalding hot venom inside him leaking into his words, "Something happened to her. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Look at you. Gluttonous, self-entitled."

"I'm telling you," he shouted, swallowing thickly, "I don't know any quar-"

His words were cut short by the insistent pressure of Shen's blade against his throat, the razor edge teasing the vital arteries hidden beneath the rolls of fat that made up his neck, a rivulet of crimson running from the curved edge of the blade and dripping onto the desk as the quarian spoke. "Her name was Daro'Xen," he said, hissing like molten steel pouring from his lips, "She had a family who loved her. She had hopes. She had dreams. She smiled. She laughed."

The three-fingered grip on his blade tightened, the quarian's words growling through the flickering crimson light of his mouthpiece, a distant, dying sun rumbling in it's death-throes. "She ran through the halls of the Khalos, playing with the orphan boy in the ragged red suit. She had a future," he said, a burning fire consuming his composure in it's fervor, "But you... You took that from her. You stole her away." Shen's visor loomed over the human's, eyes like blades forged in the heart of a dying star burning through a blood-red haze. "And you bought a drill. Oh, yes. I know. I have learned a great many things, since coming to this rock."

The foreman barked his surrender, fearful tears welling up in his wide, terrified eyes. "Alright! Alright! I knew her! I knew the bu- quarian! I knew her! Just, please, stop! I... This other guy was behind it! I'm telling you, it wasn't me! I can tell you were to find him, just let me go!"

"Who?" the quarian demanded, pressing the blade close enough to force a choking sound from the bloated human, "Who is he? Give me a name."

The foreman struggled vainly beneath the quarian's blade, tears flowing from his beady eyes over his greasy cheeks as mucus bubbled and frothed from his nostrils. "J-Jason! His n-name is Jason Dray! God! He's a junkie! Please, I only dealt him sand! He slums out over in Syneu! Downtown! Please, I don't know nothing else! Just l-let me go! Please!"

Shen's hand never wavered from it's place at the human's throat, watching his pudgy fingers wag helplessly as he sniffles for mercy, measuring his words. He was afraid. Too afraid to attempt another bluff. Was there no end to the cowardice here? "Jason," the quarian announced, slowly, as though tasting the foreign name on his tongue. "What was he to Daro? How did he know her?"

The human sputtered, a faint gleam in his eye betraying his nauseating hopeful feeling at possibly waddling away with his life. "H-He's just a sand junkie, I swear! Nothin' special! He was her boyfriend or something! He got laid off and sold her for sand!"

"And you dealt to him," the quarian hissed, looming over the human like an executioner over the guilty.

Renewing his sputter plea for mercy, the foreman nodded slowly. "Yeah, I dealt to him... But I-I didn't... I... I just had some of my boys wait to take her down... I... I gave Dray the sand and handed her over to some blinks at the port... That's it. I never actually touched her! I told you everything... Just, please, let me go..."

Shen responded with a flash of light, the flickering light of the flames burning within the demolished mine reflecting off the bold, curved edge of his blade before it's buried in the human's paunch gut. The foreman's mouth opened in a silent scream, staring wide-eyed in agonized disbelief at Shen's crimson visor. The quarian's voice hissed like blood poured over a white-hot blade. "You are not leaving here. You took everything from her. For that, you're going to sit here and watch, bleeding to death as everything you built from your profiteering collapses around you."

The quarian's grip tightened, his arm tensing visibly beneath his armored suit before dragging the blade along the human's stomach. He screamed, flesh ripping and fat tearing beneath the razor edge, a deluge of crimson gore flowing from the ruined gap, pouring over Shen's hand. The wild agonized screeching of the bloated human created an unpleasant whining feedback in the quarian's audio receptors, ignoring the distorted screams as more blood frothed and spurted from the slow progress he made across the foreman's abdomen.

With a flourish, the quarian sliced free the deposit of fat sitting on the human's hip, his kukri pulled free of the vacuum of hemorrhaging flesh with a wet sucking sound, wiping off the blade on the sweat-soaked shirt of the human. Pained groans befitting a wounded animal rose from the human's throat, his vocal chords cracking as he choked in agony, Shen's free hand pulling free a handful more charges from the pocket of his suit. Stepping off of the desk and strolling out of the office, the quarian took one last look at the human from the doorway, waving his pudgy arms futilely to free himself from his position behind the desk, blood quickly turning black as toxins from his lacerated liver poisoned his bloodstream.

Politely closing the door to the office, Shen stepped calmly over the steaming piles of gore that remained of the miner's caught in the explosion, thumbing the arming switches on the batarian-made charges and tossing them haphazardly as he made for the mineshaft's entrance. Stepping back out onto the sand-blown surface of Caleston, the dying screams of the foreman echoing around him along the shaft like an aria of the damned, the quarian's thumb pressed down on the detonator, a plume of dust and smoke and fire shooting forth from the mine's entrance as the tunnels collapsed.

The howling winds of the sandstorm nearly eclipsed Shen in their intensity, the quarian navigating with the help his HUD, flowing from the cacophony that was the foreman's screams into the atmospheric chaos of the surface. He would die in that pit, either from his wounds or the lack of oxygen or the natural gasses beneath the crust of Caleston. And yet, Shen felt nothing. There was no great sense of satisfaction or the power-drunk glory of slaying an enemy. There was nothing but the dying man's screams accompanying him up the mineshaft. Shen pulled the ragged cloth wrapped around his broad shoulders tighter, shaking off the sensation. It didn't matter. He was not doing this for some vain sense of self-righteous judgment. This was not about him. This was for Daro, the girl he knew and loved left to crawl home in pain and humiliation. What happened to him and how he felt did not matter. Not now. Not until he was finished.

When the dawning star Balor rose over the horizon of Caleston, a new day was greeted with a horrific scene of murder and destruction, local colonial police forces uncovering the ruins of the mine Shen had destroyed. Forensic investigators had, within days of the mine's destruction, analyzed the explosive compound used in the charges Shen had planted, identifying them as batarian-manufactured weapons. The resulting news feed sent throughout Caleston had sparked a wave of xenophobic violence, Shen watching in patient silence in the dusty shadows of Syneu as lynch mobs marched through the streets, batarian bodies left hanging from streetlamps. A beleaguered colonial defense force struggled to defend the woefully outnumbered non-human population, the mobs responding with riots and looting. Death stalked the streets, fires raging and guns barking into the night and into the day again endlessly. Shen moved through the anarchy without notice, watching and waiting; biding his time to strike. Daro had taught him patience many years ago, the virtues of being methodical.

It was nearly a week before the quarian made it to his final destination on Caleston for what would be the last time. He had kept tabs on his quarry, content to learn his schedule and bask in the chaos he had unleashed on the batarians. The ensuing madness would ensure his meeting with Jason would not be interrupted by authorities. They would have much more pressing concerns. The run-down tenement with it's sealed, rusted shutters had remained remarkably intact throughout the rioting of the past few days, Shen striding calmly over the bodies littering the street as he approached. The quarian's HUD flickered across his visor's display, highlighting several concealed murder holes, enough space for any small arms to fire from behind the safety of the steel shutters. This Jason was clever, the recent additions no doubt helping him defend his squat if the bodies on the street were any indication. The fact that he was also an addict added an unpredictable variable to this encounter, Shen wisely choosing to take no risks with this human. He would be given no quarter.

Drawing his sidearm with a sharp hiss, the quarian slowly approached the damaged front door, a flickering red holographic display indicating that it was locked. Calling his omni-tool forward, Shen's hands darted along the haptic interface as he synched the controls with the door's lock. Although his Pilgrimage training had proven his aptitude for combat over technological skill, the simple act of hacking an outdated door's lock was still within his ability. A chime signaled the shifting of the flickering display from red to green, Shen halting all movement and listening intently for any sign of the human's awareness that he had hacked the door.

Silence answered the quarian's efforts, the howling wind of Caleston's sandstorms and the distant sound of riots raging through the colony his only companion. Gripping the rusted handle welded to the door's surface, Shen pulled, the door slowly sliding open with a grating screech. Before the quarian could register the amount of noise the door had made, a flurry of mass-accelerated rounds impacted against the rusted door with sharp pangs, Shen sliding deeper into cover under a barrage of pistol fire.

A screeching voice shouted from beyond the door, punctuated with shots from the pistol. "C'mon, you motherfuckers! You think you can take me? C'mon!"

Flinching as a mass-accelerated round sheers off a rusted chunk from the door's side, Shen shouts back at the human, tightening the grip on his pistol. "Jason Dray! I need to talk to you," he said, narrowing his eyes like burning knives made of white-hot fire, "It's about Daro."

The gunfire ceased, a shuffling sound coming from beyond the door and breaking glass accompanying the human's words. "Y-You know Daro? Where is she? Have you seen her?"

Three fingers coiled tighter on the pistol's grip as the human spoke her name. He didn't deserve the air he used to do so. "Put down your weapon and we can talk," he said, his voice growling from behind his mask.

The panting breath of the human reached Shen's audio enhancers, irregular and erratic from the possibility of combat. "O-Okay..." he said, "Okay. You can come in. Just... Just close the door behind you."

With one fluid movement, Shen rose from his crouch and spun, taking in the entrance to Jason's squat and the human himself for a brief moment before bringing his pistol forward and firing. The round tore through the human's shoulder on his armed side, Jason falling backwards and slipping as his pistol flew from his hand. Advancing quickly, Shen kicked away the pistol, the weapon sliding beneath a nearby couch as the quarian loomed over the human, the barrel of his pistol trained between his eyes. His features were hidden beneath a layer of dirt and grime, dark circles surrounding his glossy red eyes, turned unnaturally vibrant by his drug of choice. Black hair, matted and unkempt, ran from his scalp and into his eyes, a thick layer of stubble accompanying the dirt masking his face. A stained undershirt clung to his muscular chest, blood soaking into the faded white and running stray droplets down onto a tattered old pair of work pants.

Turning his eyes to his surroundings, Shen examined what appeared to have once been a ramshackle storefront or restaurant, grills and ovens hidden behind a half-demolished counter, converted into a living room and kitchen. A table dominating the center of the living room was weighed down with bags upon bags of red sand, miniature dunes of the illicit drug pouring out of torn open bags next to neatly-formed lines. A folded up assault rifle rested against one corner of the room, Shen's eyes widening in disbelief as he recognized the modified Lancer. Daro's father had worked painstakingly on the weapon, improving and modifying every facet of it's design with obsessive care, creating a tool that would ensure his daughter's safety. And here it was. A trophy.

Turning his gaze back to the groaning human beneath him, Shen's twin-toed foot came down on Jason's wounded shoulder, switching his grip on the pistol and aiming it one-handed between his eyes as he speaks. "You're going to wish I had gotten you between the eyes, human. After everything you did, that would be too merciful."

Clasping his hand against the bleeding would in his shoulder, Jason answered through clenched teeth. "You son of a bitch... How do you know Daro? Where is she?"

"Home," the quarian responded with a vicious hiss, "Where she belongs. She had to crawl home from the pit you sent her to. All to feed your gluttony. Your greed. Disgusting," Shen nearly spits into his mask.

A gleam that seemed to pierce the glossy crimson haze of Jason's gaze shone in his eyes, seemingly ignoring the pain in his arm for a brief moment as he looked up at Shen with a hopeful tone coloring his words. "Sh-She's alive...? Oh God..."

Grinding the ball of his foot in the human's wound, Jason's words were cut off with a groan of pain, a raging inferno consuming Shen's words in a blazing inferno of rage. "Yes, in spite of you. All of you. She survived everything you filth did to her. She will be the only one who survives. "

Dirtied features contorting in rage, Jason's hand shot towards the couch where his pistol had been kicked away, a cry of pain and rage accompanying the telltale glow of biotics dancing around his hand and pulling the pistol back into his grasp. "Fuck you, asshole," he snarled, bringing the pistol to aim at Shen's visor in a quick draw born of harsh living on Caleston. Another hand grasped Shen's ankle, feeling a biotic pulse accompany a wrenching movement from the human that forced the quarian's aim to waver, his reactionary shot going wide and burying itself into the floor inches from Jason's head. Jason's pistol kicked in his hand as he fired, the round striking the metal edge of Shen's visor and sending him reeling backwards from the force of the shot. Scrambling to his feet, a rivulet of blood ran from Jason's nose as he aimed for Shen's visor, the quarian expertly sliding back to his feet and training the sights of his pistol between the human's eyes.

Both sentients stood with their pistols aimed in kill-shots, Shen's steady aim born from training and Jason's fluid natural skill with a pistol. Panting slightly, both men stared at the other. After what seemed like an eternity, Shen's mouthpiece flickered to signal his speech before a raging cry from Jason silenced him. "Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I don't who the fuck you think you are thinking you can come in here and give me some fucking trial about what I did, but I'm not fucking buying it, asshole!"

The trail of blood running from the human's nose dripped into his mouth as she shouted, flickers of artificial biotic power sparking to life around the human before dying, feeding on his rage. "You think I don't feel bad for what I did? You think I don't come down here every fucking day and see that folded up rifle in the corner and remember the one fucking person in this shitty galaxy who cared about me for who I was? You think I don't have fucking nightmares about that night? About when she cried, fucking BEGGED for me to help her? Fuck! You!"

Blood painted the human's teeth, adding an even more fearsome edge to his words, hissed back in focused rage. "You don't what it's like. You have no fucking clue. It's like having needles stab into every part of your body over and over again. I needed the sand. I didn't want it. I needed it. I know what that fat bastard did to her. I couldn't live with myself knowing. So I went after them."

Shen's eyes narrowed in response, Jason scoffing venomously at the slight change in body language as he spoke. "Yeah. That's right. Didn't know about that, did you? Nobody expects Junkie Jay to make anything of himself. I followed the blink fucks to Omega. I dealt sand while I was there to get by. I looked up and down that fucking place. I couldn't find her."

Jason's rage seemed to abate, the grip on his pistol no less stronger as the flickering biotic display forcing small trails of blood to flow from one ear finally dissipates. "I couldn't find her anywhere... I was there for weeks... Did some things I'm not proud of. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard..."

The human blinked away something in his eyes, Shen's finger tensing on the trigger before stopping, some part of him stopping from pulling the trigger. Jason continued, ignorant of the gesture. "So I came back here. To this fucking rotting hole. I punched that fat bastard when I saw he bought that drill... Guess he's dead too, huh?"

Silently, Shen nodded, Jason smirking slightly in spite of the blood pouring from his face and shoulder and the pistol aimed between his eyes. "And I'm guessing we're not going to be kicking back drinks any time soon, either."

The quarian shook his head, remaining silent as Jason nodded. Offering one last smirk, the human nodded as he spoke, almost a gesture of acceptance of what was to come. "Alright... Alright..."

Words gave way to silence, the quarian and the human waiting for the other to make the first move. Shen's finger squeezed the trigger first, Jason dodging to the side at the tension in the quarian's arm and taking the shot in the abdomen as his own pistol kicked, the round going wide and burying itself through the layers of Shen's suit and into his leg. The leg gave out in a spasm of agony, hyper-sensitive nerves shredding from the shot, Shen's pistol falling from his grasp and collapsing onto one knee in a snarl of pain. The human bull rushed the quarian, forcing Shen to momentarily ignore the incredible pain in his leg. Suit breach. The human was tougher than he looked. Shen had grown too comfortable in his hunt, dealing with cowardly miners and intimidating pedestrians. He needed to end this.

Moving with fluid movements, Shen wrestled with the muscular human, attempting to grapple painfully as his HUD flashed a warning of the suit breach in his leg. The VI program installed within his suit immediately sealed off the leg portion to isolate the exposure, sending an injection of emergency combat antibiotics to the area as Jason's fists pounded against his visor and armor with biotic-fueled strength. Wrestling against the powerful muscles of the miner human and turning his clumsily-thrown weight against him, Shen wrapped Jason's arms behind him with one iron-gripped hand. The other went to Jason's head, grabbing a tuft of black hair by the scalp and dragging him toward the table weighed down with red sand.

Kicking out with his good leg, Shen forced Jason to his knees before the table, the human turning with a mocking grin and spitting a gout of blood onto the crimson surface of the quarian's visor. Snarling, Shen slams the human's face down against the table, smothering his face in the pile of red sand. The human's arms squirmed behind his back, the leverage Shen provided on the wrenched limbs forcing them to stay in place as Jason involuntarily inhaled lungfuls of the drug. Choking and coughing on the chemical compound, small crimson clouds kicked up as Jason thrashed in the quarian's grip, suffocating in the poison he had sold Daro for. Shen could think of no better death for this thing, this vessel of putrid animal urges.

Small warps in the air snapped into existence and vanished as quickly as they came, blood pouring from Jason's nose, ears, and eyes, mixing with the crimson dust he choked on. Heaving breaths desperate for air were met with only more of the chemical sand, the human's bleeding eyes rolling back into his skull and sending tremors throughout his body as he slowly suffocated. In time, his twitches stopped, falling limp and lifeless in Shen's iron grip. Slowly letting go as though expecting Jason to renew his assault, the quarian painfully stood on both legs, snarling as he turned on his good leg, limping towards the folded rifle in the corner.

Slowly, gingerly, Shen lifted the folded Lancer and examined the superbly-crafted weapon, not daring to unfold the rifle not meant for his hand. He had left the Flotilla with a fire in his heart and eyes, intent on bringing down all the vengeance and fury he could summon on those responsible for what happened to Daro. Now he had a gift to bring back worthy of his Pilgrimage for her. Taking the weapon and sliding it beneath the dirtied shawl covering his broad chest and shoulders, the quarian hobbled painfully on one leg towards the door.

Reaching the door, Shen turned to look back at the lifeless corpse of the human, Jason's body left slumped in a pile of red sand. His words haunted the quarian's mind, the human seemingly trapped within his own guilty prison in life. It made little difference in the end, but maybe, just maybe, he truly cared for her. In only the way humans could, of course, Shen remarked bitterly. Selfishly.

It was this selfish impulse that Shen had relied on, raging mobs running through the streets, burning and pillaging in single-minded fear without giving thought to the consequences. In the chaos, the quarian's escape was made quickly and easily, stealing away towards the spaceport and hiding in the shadows of Syneu's towering foundries. Sealing a fresh suit patch over his leg, Shen hobbled hidden past a mob, dragging a pair of batarians behind them wrapped in towing cables. Moving quickly and quietly, the quarian discovered a batarian merchant's ship still in dock, several bodies of colonists and the batarian crew littering a broad area around the open access hatch. An echoing explosion sounded in the distance, the armored quarian ducking and drawing his sidearm instinctively. Massive plumes of smoke and fire reached into the sky beyond the horizon, one of the fires raging through the city reaching the refineries. There had already been bad blood between the humans and the batarians, the latter even threatening to leave the Council. It would be a small victory, but the hope that both sides would consume one another in bloody penance was not entirely unappealing to the limping quarian.

Shen's eyes narrowed behind his crimson visor at the sight, screams and panicked cries welling up from the din of the explosion. If the people were fortunate and managed to organize to combat the fires, the colony would survive. Striding into the ship, the quarian's audio enhancers caught the sound of distant voices echoing through the freighter's halls. Stalking through the ship, Shen heard raised voices shouting from the mess hall. Humans. Likely scavengers arguing over their prize. Gripping his rifle, Shen turned the corner into the mess hall, the combat VI of his visor scope coordinating his aim as he leveled the sights of his weapon in the humans' direction. Three men, two women, two in the chest and one in the head each. Their bodies slumped and cart wheeled, blood splattering against the metal deck plating. Shen felt nothing. Just another pull of the trigger after many. He would eject the bodies once he was off-world.

Navigating his way to the bridge, Shen pulled a slumped batarian body from the command console, meeting the dead stare of his four black eyes. The Hegemony would not look kindly on this incident, however. Once the propagandists heard of the lynching's, they would call for blood. The thought forced a wolfish smile across Shen's masked lips as he keyed in the commands to ready the freighter for launch. Caleston would never be the same again. A fitting punishment for what it did to Daro.


End file.
